I've recently realized a little truth ,
What is our life as something ridiculous flies fast.
Like leaves in October fly past people
And even the best friends anyone become a matter of fact .
Just bummed somehow a family business, jobs
But the main faith : to understand the world that who you are.
For what has come for what forsake
After all, we are the same in all and start and finish .
Who do you pass through life and how to get through , and where
In the shadow of other saints or anyone on the water.
What are you leaving behind ? Tree, a house and a son ?
Symphonies, poems, novels and paintings.
Or leave nothing, but only dust and ashes
Not knowing no love, no remorse , no thrill
As the wind was free or in chains
Sit down , please. And just tell me that.
You unclench their fists and stretch out my hands ,
Let's just tell me who you are in essence .
Perhaps you're a hero , but because of the unwritten
Well, what of it? Do not be silent , tell me your truth.
You unclench their fists and stretch your palm ,
For them it is more convenient to take, if someone is drowning .
Perhaps you're a hero , but because of the unwritten
Well, what of it? Do not be silent , tell me your truth.
our life is not for us , but for the family
Not for low wealth , not with silver and gold
And for the sake of mother, father , sister and brother.
For the sake of the woman he loved her and your offspring ,
After all, for them and we should throw all means necessary.
My brother do not you ask and this is my reason ,
Just go and pokladesh his hand in the fire .
The fire of love heals and warms the soul in darkness,
And people smile when logical to cry.
And so that's illogical mother forgives offenses,
His son , daughter - the world is so made visible.
She's my mother . Wise , good mother
And naively child do not notice the wound.
I do not know - it's the truth or inflated by the wind,
Sit down , please. And just tell me that.
You unclench their fists and stretch out my hands ,
Let's just tell me who you are in essence .
Perhaps you're a hero , but because of the unwritten
Well, what of it? Do not be silent , tell me your truth.
You unclench their fists and stretch your palm ,
For them it is more convenient to take, if someone is drowning .
Perhaps you're a hero , but because of the unwritten
Well, what of it? Do not be silent , tell me your truth.
I've recently realized a little truth ,
What's not to nail all of us were given the brush.
Not for acacias head, not crosses shoulders
Not for the life to lie down under the buckshot .
In the evening, as something ridiculous thought about
Once everything is arranged so that probably have it.
In whose film roles were played skillfully or not
He is the chief of the artists and the best of the poets .
It is He whispers softly in my ear ,
When I sit down in front of the sheet and pen in silence.
He is the one who gives everything and takes all
And all of this, and he has it all .
Well, that's all. My little truth
Let not the best , but it's my reason for living
Through the prism of my look at the essence of light
Want to bet? Well, sit down
And tell me this.
You unclench their fists and stretch out my hands ,
Let's just tell me who you are in essence .
Perhaps you're a hero , but because of the unwritten
Well, what of it? Do not be silent , tell me your truth.
You unclench their fists and stretch your palm ,
For them it is more convenient to take, if someone is drowning .
Perhaps you're a hero , but because of the unwritten
Well, what of it? Do not be silent , tell me your truth.
