| It's not a blizzard in her head, but a winter with hurricanes,
|
| And in her cherry lips hide thousands of stupidities.
|
| And she is for him - impossible, wonderful, strange,
|
| But in no way will he turn off her image in his consciousness.
|
| And sometimes tired at night, exhausted by thoughts,
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| He studies her photographs until his eyes hurt.
|
| And she expresses herself and emotions in writing,
|
| Silently ironing clothes and fighting with dirty tiles
|
| It's spring, spring is invented, spring!
|
| She doesn't need a special reason.
|
| There's just something wrong
|
| The city was sleeping, and here she is
|
| Spring turned everything upside down
|
| Spring... Spring...
|
| And no options!
|
| Spring... Spring...
|
| He naively thinks he can handle it all
|
| That she - like many - will flare up and soon be forgotten.
|
| And she keeps telling herself that she is far from beautiful
|
| At night drives thoughts of him through the empty quiet streets
|
| And when he meets her, he tries, keeps his distance,
|
| Convinces himself of the frivolity of the whole situation.
|
| And she goes with him to the station, which is not unnecessary for her, in principle,
|
| Just to smile at him for a couple of extra minutes
|
| It's spring, spring is invented, spring!
|
| She doesn't need a special reason.
|
| There's just something wrong
|
| The city was sleeping, and here she is
|
| Spring turned everything upside down
|
| Spring... Spring...
|
| And no options!
|
| Spring... Spring...
|
| It's spring, spring...
|
| She doesn't need a special reason.
|
| There's just something wrong
|
| The city was sleeping, and here she is
|
| Spring turned everything upside down
|
| And no options!
|
| Spring...
|
| And no options! |