Текст песни Антон Духовской - Я пишу тебе это письмо, прощаясь...

I am writing this letter to you , goodbye ...
Because - getting old. Earth rotates ,
save me a smile . But it is unlikely - Bole .
Multiply the pain , I'll stay with the pain
and with a smile . This is, perhaps , means
wait for death, not to indulge in childhood,
without falling into the river gray youth ...
only in the Dead Sea angst flows .

All snapped like a match , not blushing ginger
twinkle . And try to be closer to you
turn this unholy dalyu ,
that is not worth trying . Showers wept
for two weeks . Now the window is cool
but not wet . My poems let tumble
but to you ... Soon lines will freeze in an envelope
if locked in the body of the soul to death.

I know beforehand what line
will be the last in this poem . point
or , more accurately say , the finale is not close
but obvious. And a ghost
recipient is recognized by itself
the latest . Playing with fate,
as is known, typically goes sideways .
But I must tell you this ... With God!

I live there now , where the sand and pine.
So doctors ordered . Only one thing is unbearable -
eyes dim morning light is not enough .
It can not be helped . slipped summer
horizon by the collar . And in addition
First snow in no hurry to suburban malls
White dancing a waltz. The rest - bearable.
Only now , when someone passes
the old house , where I am today is hidden ,
know - you do not ... solution stains
yellow maple trees on a gray canvas landscape.
I say goodbye to you, even unexplored
taste the meeting ... I do not scare
that the meeting does not hasten the dawn of another ,
not afraid that summer as will sink into oblivion .
Remains cool water in a glass
forgotten on the veranda , but apples smell
yes sunset, pointing us to the west.

I'd like to the sea. Now , perhaps,
there is stormy . But the owner of a tavern
still remembers me. And if so happens,
I will come back - it could get drunk
wonderful red wine. Landscapes
there all the same - Piers , empty beaches ...
All seasons are closed, and even dead .
Falling asleep, worn out from his eyes banishes
contour of mountains . But the presence of the mountains , however,
and feel in the room. Like a dog
looking for a corner where people smell . dreary
like a pendulum , coughing noise tide.

My friend the artist ... It seems , however,
at the beginning of the novel . one night
in the workshop of his chilly , huddled in a corner ,
I watched as the traces of coal reserves
on the sheet. Cobweb fragile lines
tremble someone's life. And the black frost
coal crumbs long shadow cast
on the sand and shoots dry plants .
What colorless - seven colors of paint .
I do not know what I mean ... It dawns .

Never ... My tongue is so poorly poor
so explain to you , as the dawn was pale
early in the morning when you have circled me ,
like birds , seven letters. And some of them have developed
three breaths , three voids , three syllables -
never ... And the road leading into the distance
completed fence from boards close .
And hope that more will be raised
dreams in which we 'll be together with you,
suddenly broke beating surf wave
the rock . Never. Never. Listen,
as old age creeps in with the sounds of soul,
as becoming ridiculously easy ,
as life ends , like a handful of millet
between my fingers glide and disappear like
eraser erase the inscription . And this word
I repeated diligently until nightfall ,
repeated as a prayer as " Hail , Father "
repeated the role as an actor learns to premiere .
Never. Never. Never ... Believe me,
it's all about just that. And , out of boredom ,
write "never" Notebook in the fields .

Do not play more this game with me .
Do not mess that you will be my wife
five summers and winters . I do not believe in the game.
Whenever I see trees needles
in the snow - I do not have fun . this is a sign
end of games . And save caprice
like a child, will not be possible now .
I soon will search watering hole in the desert,
than in the crowd crowded note glance
those who will be with me next day .

You get tired to count to five , you get tired .
You're my bride will never be .
In any of the hotels , tired of running