Вадим Егоров - Сказочная песня
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Вадим Егоров - Сказочная песня - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Белые дороги, белые дома - зима.
На дворе у нас стоят из снега терема.
Для детей они слетели с неба,
мы-то с вами знаем, что они из снега,
мы-то с вами не сошли с ума.
А у сказки краски как на витраже Леже.
Только не для нас: ведь мы на вираже уже.
Наши сказки серые от пыли,
потому что мы когда-то юны были,
а теперь не юные уже…
Сын прижал подушку щекой.
В его сон — невозмутимый покой
кувырком влетают Маленький Мук,
Баба Яга и змей Горыныч,
а за ним Синдбад, а потом
Маркиз Карабас в обнимку с Котом,
Ходжа Насреддин с ослом, а потом…
Право же, всех не перечислишь…
И, когда заката тлеет в небесах ожог,
около стола садимся мы в кружок, дружок,
смахивая пыль и паутину,
расстилаем скатерть-самобранку и на
ней уже вино и пирожок.
И, когда луны прожектор, в небесах горя,
освещает былый полушубок января,
в комнате, обыденной и тесной,
пахнет чертовщиною и сдобным тестом -
пахнет детством, проще говоря.
Луч рассветный брызнет сюда
и в него, как в дверь, уйдут без следа
Баратино, Гулливер, а за ним
маленький Принц и Мэри Поппинз,
а за ней Синдбад, а потом
Маркиз Карабас в обнимку с Котом,
Ходжа Насреддин с ослом, а потом…
Право же, всех не перечислишь…
Ах, когда мы были лопоухие щены,
все мы, как в купели, в сказке были крещены.
Та купель далека ли, близка ли -
как мы в той купели пели и плескались
и не знали этому цены.
Книжки пожелтели, сказки позабылись, но…
В Сказку никогда не поздно распахнуть окно -
только вы аршином мир не мерьте,
только вы поверьте, только вы поверьте
в то, во что не верите давно…
В то, что чудо рядом лежит
Ещё в то, что нам без чуда не жить
И тогда однажды вечером к вам
Карлсон слетит на подоконник,
а за ним Синдбад, а потом
Маркиз Карабас с Котом, а потом
Ходжа Насреддин с ослом, а потом…
Право же - всех не перечислишь.
White roads, white houses - winter.
In the yard we have a tower snow.
For children, they flew off the sky,
We know that they are from the snow,
We haven't gone crazy with you.
And the fairy tale has paint as on a stained glass windows.
Not for us: after all, we are already on the turn.
Our tales are gray from dust
Because we were once young,
And now not young already ...
The son pressed the pillow with his cheek.
In his dream - unperturbed peace
Small flour fly up somersault
Baba Yaga and the snake Gorynych,
And behind him is the syndbad, and then
Marquis Karabas in an embrace with a cat,
Khoja Nasreddin with a donkey, and then ...
Really, you can’t list everyone ...
And when the sunset smolders in heaven burn,
We sit in a circle near the table, my friend,
Systeming dust and web,
we spread a self-assembly tablecloth and on
She is already wine and pie.
And when the moon is a spotlight, in heaven grief,
illuminates a short fur coat of January,
In a room, mundane and cramped,
It smells of damn and with a butt test -
It smells of childhood, in other words.
Ray dawn will pour here
And in him, like on the door, they will leave without a trace
Baratino, Gulliver, and after him
Little Prince and Mary Poppins,
And behind her syndbad, and then
Marquis Karabas in an embrace with a cat,
Khoja Nasreddin with a donkey, and then ...
Really, you can’t list everyone ...
Ah, when we were lop -eared puppies,
All of us, as in the font, were baptized in a fairy tale.
That font is far, is it close -
How we sang in that font and splashed
And they did not know the price.
Books turned yellow, fairy tales have forgotten, but ...
It’s never too late to open the window into the fairy tale -
Only you do not measure with arshin,
Only you believe, only you believe
What you have not believed in for a long time ...
The fact that the miracle is nearby lies
Another that we can’t live without a miracle
And then one evening to you
Carlson will fly to the windowsill,
And behind him is the syndbad, and then
Marquis Karabas with a cat, and then
Khoja Nasreddin with a donkey, and then ...
Really - you can’t list everyone.
In the yard we have a tower snow.
For children, they flew off the sky,
We know that they are from the snow,
We haven't gone crazy with you.
And the fairy tale has paint as on a stained glass windows.
Not for us: after all, we are already on the turn.
Our tales are gray from dust
Because we were once young,
And now not young already ...
The son pressed the pillow with his cheek.
In his dream - unperturbed peace
Small flour fly up somersault
Baba Yaga and the snake Gorynych,
And behind him is the syndbad, and then
Marquis Karabas in an embrace with a cat,
Khoja Nasreddin with a donkey, and then ...
Really, you can’t list everyone ...
And when the sunset smolders in heaven burn,
We sit in a circle near the table, my friend,
Systeming dust and web,
we spread a self-assembly tablecloth and on
She is already wine and pie.
And when the moon is a spotlight, in heaven grief,
illuminates a short fur coat of January,
In a room, mundane and cramped,
It smells of damn and with a butt test -
It smells of childhood, in other words.
Ray dawn will pour here
And in him, like on the door, they will leave without a trace
Baratino, Gulliver, and after him
Little Prince and Mary Poppins,
And behind her syndbad, and then
Marquis Karabas in an embrace with a cat,
Khoja Nasreddin with a donkey, and then ...
Really, you can’t list everyone ...
Ah, when we were lop -eared puppies,
All of us, as in the font, were baptized in a fairy tale.
That font is far, is it close -
How we sang in that font and splashed
And they did not know the price.
Books turned yellow, fairy tales have forgotten, but ...
It’s never too late to open the window into the fairy tale -
Only you do not measure with arshin,
Only you believe, only you believe
What you have not believed in for a long time ...
The fact that the miracle is nearby lies
Another that we can’t live without a miracle
And then one evening to you
Carlson will fly to the windowsill,
And behind him is the syndbad, and then
Marquis Karabas with a cat, and then
Khoja Nasreddin with a donkey, and then ...
Really - you can’t list everyone.
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