Булат Окуджава - Песенка о дальней дороге
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Забудешь поздний праздник и первую утрату,
когда луны колеса затренькают по тракту,
и силуэт совиный склонится с облучка,
и прямо в душу грянет простой романс сверчка.
Пускай глядит с порога красотка, увядая,
та гордая, та злая, та злая, та святая...
Что прелесть ее ручек? Что жар ее перин?
Давай, брат, отрешимся. Давай, брат, воспарим.
Жена, как говорится, найдет себе другого,
какого-никакого, как ты, недорогого.
А дальняя дорога дана тебе судьбой,
как матушкины слезы, она всегда с тобой.
Покуда ночка длится, покуда бричка катит,
дороги этой длинной на нас с тобою хватит.
Зачем ладонь с повинной ты на сердце кладешь?
Чего не потеряешь -- того, брат, не найдешь.
От сосен запах хлебный, от неба свет целебный,
а от любови бедной сыночек будет бледный.
А дальняя дорога...
А дальняя дорога...
А дальняя дорога...
1967
Forget the late holiday and the first loss,
When the moon of wheels are paired by the tract,
and the silhouette of the Soviet will be off the irradiation,
And the simple romance of cricket is born in the soul.
Let it look from the corner of the beauty, fading,
That proud, that evil, that evil, that holy ...
What is the charm of her handles? What's the heat of her perin?
Come on, brother, disgraced. Come on, brother, wait.
Wife, as they say, will find a different one,
What - no, like you, inexpensive.
And the distant road is given to you fate
Like Matushkina tears, she is always with you.
As long as the noise lasts, as long as the Brica is Katit,
The roads of this long on us with you will have enough.
Why do you like your palm on the heart?
What you will not lose - that brother, you will not find.
From pine smell bread, healing light from the sky,
And from the love of poor sons will be pale.
And the long-distance road ...
And the long-distance road ...
And the long-distance road ...
1967.
When the moon of wheels are paired by the tract,
and the silhouette of the Soviet will be off the irradiation,
And the simple romance of cricket is born in the soul.
Let it look from the corner of the beauty, fading,
That proud, that evil, that evil, that holy ...
What is the charm of her handles? What's the heat of her perin?
Come on, brother, disgraced. Come on, brother, wait.
Wife, as they say, will find a different one,
What - no, like you, inexpensive.
And the distant road is given to you fate
Like Matushkina tears, she is always with you.
As long as the noise lasts, as long as the Brica is Katit,
The roads of this long on us with you will have enough.
Why do you like your palm on the heart?
What you will not lose - that brother, you will not find.
From pine smell bread, healing light from the sky,
And from the love of poor sons will be pale.
And the long-distance road ...
And the long-distance road ...
And the long-distance road ...
1967.
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