Текст песни Игорь Паньков - Дорога

This road has rough slave skin
and her profile is not always idyllic,
but the lilac weaves her carpets of petals, and rowan berries
whole handfuls of grapes are thrown after her
ruby berries ... And the smell is spinning around us
open space, and whips through the glass of snow prickly ...
And this road goes farther west
now bending down, then taking up steeper.
Somewhere in the sky a moon disk is spinning
Stereo music
Interrupts again brakes a desperate screech
Hearts alarming rhythm and voice from the phone

Now in a school dress, then in a gray soldier's overcoat
some strange people rush towards us
and shout something to us. And if we failed
to hear through the rain, then good luck to us will be no more.
And again, over the white markings, iron flocks
they rumble like birds and yet they don’t go into a wedge,
and only a fortuneteller on a black hand will guess
where once they have to return home.
my years on slack ruts
like milestones in the snows of the motherland
so where do I have to be today and when will I be there
the horizon is longer than all lines of life

I believe, road, in your mutual responsibility,
I realized that, in vain somewhere running away from home,
we slide over the invisible circle again and again
as if the route is endlessly enchanted in winter.
Me too, dear, I am so concerned about fate:
I’m just getting drunk, and now I want to figure it out,
why do I need him, with longing villages along the roadsides,
a lost paradise that I can’t reach.
oncoming light or stars of bethlehem
wet asphalt saved me their reflection
so that I never forget that if there’s no separation,
then there is no meeting and it’s time to continue moving
FORWARD...