Black hair turned white white
|
When the white stripes turned black
|
Gone downhill or never moved
|
When my train has left, answer the question
|
You, despite your age, conquered Elbrus
|
We, despite thunderstorms, grew a bush
|
Where the baragos taste you
|
And it’s not a point that usually destroys, but an ace by eleven
|
We are looking for well-being, like a ray of sunshine
|
On the path of the unlucky under the arches of the clouds
|
Don't forget twisted behind the ear, old man
|
Just in case, otherwise you never know what
|
You will think too much for your neighbor.
|
When the Companion suddenly became motionless
|
Reserved seat to Nizhny on the upper quieter
|
Our neighbors can't hear me trying to sleep
|
Our train is leaving, it can't be returned
|
They are trying to drop us off, so be it
|
We are scared and afraid, the smoke presses on our chest
|
And I lie on my shoulder blades and try to sleep
|
Our train is leaving, it can't be returned
|
They are trying to drop us off, so be it
|
We are scared and afraid, the smoke presses on our chest
|
And I lie on my shoulder blades and try to sleep
|
My train has left, my plane has left
|
But in the area they know who the father is here
|
For cold hearts this is hot sadness
|
And the driver will wait, we caught a smoke
|
We're on our way to conquer and reproach
|
Take and give, good morning, old man
|
We have everything in the old fashioned way and there are lights outside the window
|
But the voice of the record wants to talk
|
About cities, about routes on maps
|
How the years flew by, for what and where
|
We're still riding in these couchette cars
|
I wish you luck, so that this time to the end
|
Not one step back, I keep writing
|
Not because it is necessary, not because someone said
|
Ordered a taxi to the station
|
Beloved said not to forget
|
Our train is leaving, it can't be returned
|
They are trying to drop us off, so be it
|
We are scared and afraid, the smoke presses on our chest
|
And I lie on my shoulder blades and try to sleep
|
Our train is leaving, it can't be returned
|
They are trying to drop us off, so be it
|
We are scared and afraid, the smoke presses on our chest
|
And I lie on my shoulder blades and try to sleep
|
Now I'm having this dream again
|
I'm standing in front of a locomotive on rails
|
And behind the levers of the locomotive, too, I
|
I'm racing on myself and there's nothing I can do
|
My life and my science turned out to be this damn merciless engine
|
With which we ran into all of humanity |