| An old colonel with a crazy lapdog lives quietly on the seventh floor. | 
| He hardly reads books and newspapers, and no longer dreams | 
| About snow-covered clouds, where very brave birds live, | 
| Whose chicks he held in his hands and taught to fly without fear of breaking. | 
| Not afraid to break. | 
| An old colonel in a terry robe, waiting for news by the TV. | 
| And he does not dream of a greater reward, not feeling the same passions. | 
| And not remembering the clouds where very brave birds live. | 
| Their chicks, which he held in his hands, and taught to fly without fear of breaking. | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| He deserved a completely different old age. | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| What a small thing. | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| He deserved a completely different old age. | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| What a small thing. | 
| What a little | 
| The old colonel will go unnoticed to heaven with a candle in his hands. | 
| In the form of a bright blue dress, slowly melting in thick clouds. | 
| He knows that very brave birds are waiting for him and miss him, | 
| Their chicks all flew apart, not being afraid to break! | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| He deserved a completely different old age. | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| What a small thing. | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| He deserved a completely different old age. | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| What a small thing. | 
| What a little | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| He deserved a completely different old age | 
| Forward, straight to the sun | 
| What a small thing. | 
| An old colonel with a crazy lapdog lives quietly on the seventh floor. | 
| He hardly reads books and newspapers, and he no longer dreams, already. |