Игорь Сидорчик - Виктор Лихачёв - 57 Ангелы уходят не прощаясь
текст песни

Galina Bezrukova

Bells
I
Song
The eyebrows burned out
The braids brightened
And on a motley skirt
The poppies have faded.
It’s good for me to go
So, simple -haired,
To the far village,
Melting in dust.
In the river Mologa
I wash my legs
And from the bridge for a long time
I look at the fry.
Tropinki paths,
Dusty roads
They will bring in the evening
In a quiet dawn.
What is the village
Will he give at dawn?
What will be the evening
Is this famous?
... will ring a shame,
... Comarik will ring.
Maybe a bell
Even ringing.

***
The crazy floorboard creaked -
I never creaked before.
He entered and asked to get drunk.
We had tasty water.

I brought him a full bucket
From a bucket covered in the corner.
Shugalah from the shop of well -fed cats,
I invited to our table.

Enough the bucket. He looked with affection.
"Good, hostess, water."
And why am I flooded with paint?
I never blushed before.

I said: “Stay, right.
There is what darkness in the yard.
I will bed you in the room to the right,
Stand early at the dawn. "

But in response a passerby is a blonde:
“No, I'll go. Dark - but it doesn’t matter ... "
And why am I bursting out, a fool?
I never roared before.

***
Then, perhaps, I repent.
Then. May be. In the meantime -
Our red shift "Ikarus",
Fly to the city of Torzhok!

There the bells are white,
There is a carved shadow at the porch.
Flows incredibly and free
A river named Tverts.

And we will ask about the night
In a hut, a serviceable man,
And autumn will see us as a keepsake
Goldenwave from Torzhok.

Torzhok! What is there to bargain?!
We will give any price
To be twenty again.
At least the night is one. At least one day.

Behind the walls white Assumption,
For the room of three steps,
For the rustle of leaves on the steps,
For the holiday of the city of Torzhka ...

.