| In my dream - yellow lights,
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| And I wheeze in my sleep:
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| — Wait, wait, —
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| Morning is wiser!
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| But in the morning it's not like that,
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| There is no such fun
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| Or smoke on an empty stomach
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| Or you drink with a hangover.
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| In taverns - green damask,
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| White napkins.
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| Paradise for beggars and jesters
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| I'm like a bird in a cage!
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| There is stench and twilight in the church,
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| The deacon smokes incense.
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| Not! |
| And everything is not so in the church,
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| Everything is not as it should be.
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| I am on the mountain in a hurry,
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| So that nothing happens.
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| And on the mountain stands an alder,
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| And under the mountain cherry.
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| If only the slope was entwined with ivy,
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| It would be a consolation for me,
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| At least something else...
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| Everything is not right!
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| I then across the field, along the river.
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| Light is darkness, there is no god!
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| And in the open field of cornflowers,
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| Long road.
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| Along the road - dense forest
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| With Baba-Yagas,
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| And at the end of that road -
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| Block with axes.
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| Somewhere the horses are dancing to the beat,
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| Reluctantly and smoothly.
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| Along the road, everything is wrong,
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| And in the end - even more so.
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| And neither the church nor the tavern -
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| Nothing is sacred!
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| No guys, it's not like that
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| It's not like that guys! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Моя цыганская , by - Владимир Высоцкий.