Текст песни Музыка - нежная мелодия

"I died almost 9 years ago. But I am not writing to tell you how I live here. I am writing to tell you my story. The story of my great love. And I also want to say that love does not die. Even so even if they’re trying to kill her, even if you want to. Love doesn’t die. Never. We met on December 31. I was going to celebrate New Year with my third wife with my old friends. My life before it appeared was so worthless and unnecessary, that very often I asked myself: Work? Yes, I liked what I was engaged. Family? I really wanted to have children, but I didn’t have them. Now I understand that the meaning of my life was - in anticipation of this meeting. I don’t want to describe it. Or rather, I just can’t describe it so that you really understood what it is, because every letter, every line of my letter is saturated with love for her, and for every eyelash that fell from her sad eyes, for every tear I was ready to give everything. So, it was December 31st. I immediately realized that I was missing. If she came alone, I would not be ashamed of my third wife and would approach her in the first minute of our meeting. But she was not alone. Next to her was my best friend. They only knew each other for a couple of weeks, but from his lips I heard a lot of interesting things about her. And now, now, I saw her. When the chimes struck and toasts were delivered, I went to the window. The window was foggy from my breath, and I wrote: . Moved away and the inscription on his eyes disappeared. Then there was again a feast, toasts. I returned to the window an hour later. I breathed on him and saw the inscription . My legs gave way, my breathing stopped for a few seconds ... Love comes only once. And this person understands immediately. All that was in my life before this day was tinsel, sleep, delirium. A lot of words are to this phenomenon. But my life began on that New Year’s Eve, because I understood, I saw in her eyes that this day is also the first day in her life. On January 2, we moved to a hotel, and planned to buy our own little corner. We got into the habit of writing notes to each other on the windows. I wrote to her . She answered We left the most secret desires on the windows in the hotel, in the car, with friends at home. We were together for exactly two months. Then I was gone.

Now I come to her only when she is sleeping. I sit down on her bed, I inhale her smell. I can’t cry. I can not. But I feel the pain. Not physical, but mental. All these eight years she celebrates New Year alone. She sits by the window, pours a glass of champagne and cries. I also know that she continues to write me notes on the windows. Everyday. But I can’t read them, because my breath will not fog up the window.

Last new year was unusual. I do not want to tell you the secrets of another life, but I deserve one desire. I dreamed of reading her last inscription on glass. And when she fell asleep, I sat for a long time by her bed, I stroked her hair, I kissed her hands ... And then I went to the window. I knew that I would succeed, I knew that I could see her message - and I saw. She left for me one word

This New Year will be the last one she will spend alone. I received permission for my last wish, in exchange for the fact that I could never come to her again and never see her again. On this New Year's Eve, when the clock strikes midnight, when everyone around will have fun and congratulate each other, when the whole universe freezes in anticipation of the first breath, the first second of the new year, she will pour herself a glass of champagne, go to the window and see the inscription . "