Вторник, 23.07.2019
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In the ratio 25 to 10 (BG)
I'm an engineer on a hundred rubles,
And I won't get more.
I'm twenty-five, and I still
Don't know what I want.
And it seems to me there is no grounds
To be proud of my own destiny,
But if I could choose myself
I would become myself again.
I'm twenty-five, and ten of them
I sing, not knowing, what about.
And to me it's so difficult to be afraid of her,
That stands behind the left shoulder;
And let my words are not clear,
In this a little my guilt;
But what as for her, that stands behind shoulder,
Before her, we are all equal.
It may be that tomorrow clock hands
Will start to rotate back,
And the one whom with weeping they removed from the cross,
Will be found crucified again.
And soft lips will be
To seek again their Christ;
But I sang what I sang, and at least in that
My conscience is clear.
And I'm happy with how everything turned out,
Even with what was not so.
Even with what the wind in my head,
And in my temple there's chaos.
I was just trying to grow my garden
And not to spoil a beautiful view;
And commander of frontier post will understand me,
And carefree fisherman will forgive.

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