Shapes, dust, hidden buildings,
|
As always modern, antique haughty
|
Crossroads started stealing.
|
He stands at the cradle of the Caucasian brotherhood.
|
Here, where the stars see people's thoughts,
|
Where neon lights watch the shadows dance
|
Humming the rustle of bridges, fragments of dreams
|
Don rolls its dark waters through the years.
|
Look up, flocks of clouds are flying,
|
Weak beam visible
|
Light, heat is a special gift,
|
Day of change, a different alignment of yesterday's topics
|
Prepares the morning of gray walls.
|
Only the shine of wet roads
|
Asphalt reflects text
|
24/7 other places,
|
At this time, it sets the rhythm for the new day.
|
Rostov, who received the informal title - Pope,
|
Majestic Rostov-Papa
|
Gates of the Caucasus, the bosom of wild excitement
|
And I don't care if everyone agrees with me
|
Who has been here once?
|
Chorus:
|
My spirit feels next to the breath of your streets,
|
The look notices traces of changes, your morals,
|
Rumor picks up the rhythm of the nights
|
Fear paints the unknown for the day.
|
Without words, definitely, definitely
|
Such is the city, warmed by the faith of gray dogs.
|
Maintains tone every day
|
Your mercilessly smart, severely romantic image.
|
Without words, definitely, definitely
|
Such is the city, warmed by the faith of gray dogs.
|
A series of faces, false ambitions, eternity in the sky,
|
A flock of birds draws infinity.
|
Vanity, like a prize, will remain here forever,
|
Regardless of the times.
|
Imprint of risky ideas plus betting strategy
|
Determine the result, personal skill.
|
Fear brings failure, the plan takes a big swing
|
But it disappears before our eyes.
|
The die is cast, the price is too high
|
"Hey, watch out! |
The way back is impossible!”
|
The boys find everything here: from ghostly happiness
|
Before initiation into the secrets of thieves' passion.
|
I watch the leaden sunset melting in the sky,
|
Throwing the evening let it fade with a million lights,
|
Similar to losses, a million ways to the night doors.
|
Echoes of sudden separations, this daily circle
|
Completes arbitrary leisure.
|
Traditionally modest plot, whatever
|
Accept: Dutch smoke or cable porn.
|
Big lanterns of Rostov flicker behind the glass
|
"Bro, slow down, let's drive along Sadovaya!
|
Flight in the rhythm of a traffic light.
|
Ah, it's awesome!"
|
Chorus:
|
My spirit feels next to the breath of your streets,
|
The look notices traces of changes, your morals,
|
Rumor picks up the rhythm of the nights
|
Fear paints the unknown for the day.
|
Without words, definitely, definitely
|
Such is the city, warmed by the faith of gray dogs.
|
Maintains tone every day
|
Your mercilessly smart, severely romantic image.
|
My spirit feels next to the breath of your streets,
|
The look notices traces of changes, your morals,
|
Rumor picks up the rhythm of the nights
|
Fear paints the unknown for the day.
|
Without words, definitely, definitely
|
Such is the city, warmed by the faith of gray dogs.
|
Maintains tone every day... |