| I will decorate the verses with inept notes,
|
| And the romance will be hammered in the pre-sunset rays,
|
| And bees circling over honeycombs
|
| Sadness will swirl, about the departed sadness.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Sorrow light from the labyrinths of memory,
|
| Sorrow color is blurry blue.
|
| And our life is on the porch
|
| And asks for love with an outstretched hand.
|
| Open your forged chest of your generous soul,
|
| Maybe somewhere at the bottom lies not spent
|
| Our former love is an old penny, broken,
|
| In it, the former sadness, reflected, trembles.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Sorrow light from the labyrinths of memory,
|
| Sorrow color is blurry blue.
|
| And our life is on the porch
|
| And asks for love with an outstretched hand.
|
| On the guitar between the strings, let the spider weave a web,
|
| Let the gusty wind pluck the leaves of memorable years.
|
| The painter - "love" will paint a different picture,
|
| Blur-blue color will certainly circle it.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Sorrow light from the labyrinths of memory,
|
| Sorrow color is blurry blue.
|
| And our life is on the porch
|
| And asks for love with an outstretched hand.
|
| Losing.
|
| And our life is on the porch
|
| And asks for love with an outstretched hand.
|
| And asks for love with an outstretched hand.
|
| And asks for love with an outstretched hand. |