Ольга Качанова - Жена Страдивари
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Ольга Качанова - Жена Страдивари - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Жена Страдивари у мужа жила… на работе
В домашнем угаре жужжала, как пчелка в полете.
У жен мастеров незавидная доля такая,-
В дому у них офис, а рядом склады, мастерская…
А в кухне на печке варилась похлебка с фасолью,
А с ней по соседству стоял котелок с канифолью…
А в кухне на печке варилась похлебка с фасолью,
А с ней по соседству стоял котелок с канифолью…
Жену Страдивари порой это так забавляло, -
Щепоточку соли она в канифоль добавляла.
На запах сбегались их вечно голодные дети,
А это варилась в кастрюле морилка для деки…
Жену Страдивари порой это так забавляло,
Немного горилки в морилку она добавляла.
А в баночку с клеем сироп она капала скрытно,
И как-то звучала по-новому каждая скрипка…
А в баночку с клеем сироп она капала скрытно,
И как-то звучала по-новому каждая скрипка…
Жене Страдивари казалось и этого мало, -
Полпачки заначки она у него изымала.
На это сквозь пальцы смотрел занятой Страдивари,
Как все мастера он нуждался в заказах, в пиаре…
И чтобы удача к нему залетала нередко,
И каждая скрипка звучала, как Анна Нетребко.
Stradivari's wife lived ... at work
In the domestic fugure buzzed like a bee in flight.
In the wives of the masters, the unenviable proportion is, -
In the house they have an office, and nearby warehouses, workshop ...
And in the kitchen on the stove cooked chowed with beans,
And with her next door stood a pot with a rosphor ...
And in the kitchen on the stove cooked chowed with beans,
And with her next door stood a pot with a rosphor ...
Stradivari wife sometimes so amused, -
She added a pinch of salt in rosin.
On the smell fled them eternally hungry children,
And it was cooked in a saucepan of a veil for decks ...
Stradivari wife sometimes so amused,
A bit of the gorge in the veil she added.
And in a jar with glue syrup she dripped secretly,
And somehow sounded in a new way every violin ...
And in a jar with glue syrup she dripped secretly,
And somehow sounded in a new way every violin ...
The wife of Stradivari seemed to this little, -
She has overwhelmed in his sleep.
To this through the fingers looked a busy Stradivari,
As all the masters he needed orders, in a pian ...
And so that the luck is often flewing to him,
And each violin sounded like Anna Netrebko.
In the domestic fugure buzzed like a bee in flight.
In the wives of the masters, the unenviable proportion is, -
In the house they have an office, and nearby warehouses, workshop ...
And in the kitchen on the stove cooked chowed with beans,
And with her next door stood a pot with a rosphor ...
And in the kitchen on the stove cooked chowed with beans,
And with her next door stood a pot with a rosphor ...
Stradivari wife sometimes so amused, -
She added a pinch of salt in rosin.
On the smell fled them eternally hungry children,
And it was cooked in a saucepan of a veil for decks ...
Stradivari wife sometimes so amused,
A bit of the gorge in the veil she added.
And in a jar with glue syrup she dripped secretly,
And somehow sounded in a new way every violin ...
And in a jar with glue syrup she dripped secretly,
And somehow sounded in a new way every violin ...
The wife of Stradivari seemed to this little, -
She has overwhelmed in his sleep.
To this through the fingers looked a busy Stradivari,
As all the masters he needed orders, in a pian ...
And so that the luck is often flewing to him,
And each violin sounded like Anna Netrebko.
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