Each of us lost ourselves
|
Each of us was looking for an answer
|
What was not done in vain
|
What has been done, what hasn't
|
And then I hope for centuries
|
What they will show and tell about love, for sure
|
What will they whisper and point me to tips on my sides
|
And the glass in my hand will be replaced by a new hand
|
I adore her, I won't give it to anyone
|
For nothing and never will I repeat that fate
|
To lose something, not to break or crush,
|
But this mood will pass in me again
|
Each of us lost ourselves
|
Each of us was looking for an answer
|
What was not done in vain
|
What has been done, what hasn't
|
Orchids in the fingers, like a country of others,
|
And the country of others is like an inappropriate myth
|
I would love to kill you so much
|
And I definitely could, if I could love
|
I don’t see dreams, I don’t remember tears, I believe, I know
|
I tied the noose myself, stood on a chair
|
I changed my mind, now I'm getting down
|
Thin branches, adult games, complex songs, sad dances
|
I will return to you if I remember
|
How people love, but people are trash
|
I'm just like everyone else
|
I'm driving down the road on a crooked wheel
|
The back of my lady is pressed by a strong corset,
|
But my lady's back is pressed by everyone, and in front of everyone
|
I will whitewash the walls of the oak house where we slept
|
In the black earth I will bury the hilt of steel
|
I will divide it into its edges, like a crystal
|
So that the black dogs of the gendarmes are tired
|
Fuck you sniffed there, dogs
|
They poked mustache rods into the cracks in the basement
|
My knife bears the name of the steppe tribal fox
|
I put on the scales, how your noses are blown by the wind,
|
But mine was and will be against
|
Two words in a notebook: "Open the chest!"
|
There on the turn, in the chestnut roots, behind the red bushes
|
Find what you're looking for, I won't say anything more
|
Each of us was looking for
|
Each of us has found
|
Each of us has known
|
Each of us betrayed |