I only remember the moment
|
Snow fell on the shoulders
|
You smiled at me
|
We are eighteen years old
|
Balcony, cigarette smoke
|
And everything is like in a dream
|
Under the windows of the avenue,
|
But the city is sleeping and not
|
There are no people in the world
|
except us
|
Sleep under the covers
|
Don't want at all
|
And we run away
|
From these boring walls
|
Nothing to wait
|
We want to walk
|
In the rain we are together
|
And don't think about anything
|
Went to Dixie and bought
|
Lots of cigarillos
|
Smoked all day
|
And generally scored on everything
|
And no one will tell us
|
What we left in the yards of the Fontanka...
|
In the courtyards of the Fontanka...
|
In the courtyards of the Fontanka...
|
I only remember the moment
|
Snow fell on the city
|
You smiled at me
|
We are eighteen years old
|
Balcony, cigarette smoke
|
And everything is like in a dream
|
Let's kiss passionately
|
Let's give ourselves to love
|
Let's believe again
|
That you and I are immortal
|
That will never come
|
awkward conversations
|
For birthdays
|
And New Year's
|
Stupid dark quarrels
|
After all, we sleep on the yellow sofa near the Fontanka
|
This is not Devyatkino for you,
|
But people are exactly the same everywhere
|
preoccupied with rags
|
I don't want to be like them
|
The smell of the Neva is impossibly intoxicating
|
Blood dispersing one to two
|
Eternal love has no death
|
Nothing to wait
|
We want to walk
|
In the rain we are together
|
And don't think about anything
|
Went to Dixie and bought
|
Lots of cigarillos
|
Smoked all day
|
And generally scored on everything
|
And no one will tell us
|
What we left in the yards of the Fontanka...
|
In the courtyards of the Fontanka...
|
In the courtyards of the Fontanka... |