отец Геннадий. Странник 10 - 15 Музыкант
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отец Геннадий. Странник 10 - 15 Музыкант - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Он полжизни играл на трубе,
Ожидая овации зала.
Перестроилось что-то в судьбе,
И труба вдохновлять перестала.
Он искал, где потерянный ключ,
Где какая-то в жизни ошибка.
Вдруг подумал, что он невезуч,
Что поможет старинная скрипка.
Он на скрипке играл день и ночь,
Все оттенки окрасив душою,
Паганини сумел превозмочь,
От поклонниц не стало отбоя.
Как-то раз, посмотрев на часы,
Осознал, как уходит мгновенье,
Зачехлил инструмент от росы
И в другом ощутил вдохновенье.
Не жалея ушедшие дни,
Не жалея ушедшие годы,
Понял то, что невзгоды одни
Приобрел вместо вечной свободы.
И теперь удалой музыкант
Ходит в рясе за древним забором,
Окормляет в обители сад,
Управляет монашеским хором.
He played on the pipe for half his life,
Waiting for the ovation of the hall.
Something in fate was rebuilt,
And the pipe stopped inspiring.
He was looking for where the lost key
Where is some kind of mistake in life.
Suddenly he thought he was unlucky
What will help the old violin.
He played on the violin day and night
All shades were painted with the soul,
Paganini managed to overcome
There was no end to the fans.
Once, looking at the clock,
I realized how the moment it leaves,
Cooked the Tool from dew
And in the other I felt inspiration.
Not sparing the past days
Not sparing the past years,
I realized that the hardships were alone
I acquired instead of eternal freedom.
And now a dramatic musician
Walks in a cassock behind an ancient fence,
Nourishes the garden in the monastery,
He controls the monastic choir.
Waiting for the ovation of the hall.
Something in fate was rebuilt,
And the pipe stopped inspiring.
He was looking for where the lost key
Where is some kind of mistake in life.
Suddenly he thought he was unlucky
What will help the old violin.
He played on the violin day and night
All shades were painted with the soul,
Paganini managed to overcome
There was no end to the fans.
Once, looking at the clock,
I realized how the moment it leaves,
Cooked the Tool from dew
And in the other I felt inspiration.
Not sparing the past days
Not sparing the past years,
I realized that the hardships were alone
I acquired instead of eternal freedom.
And now a dramatic musician
Walks in a cassock behind an ancient fence,
Nourishes the garden in the monastery,
He controls the monastic choir.
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