Текст песни Антон Духовской - В Ялте дождь...

The conversation is over.
Carried out into the yard
Christmas tree.
Petersburg Winter.
From the needles in the houses
sharp.
Snow flies out the window
gray confetti
handful.
At night from the table
eat salad
guests.

In Yalta - rain ...
So what pulls us so far
where almonds already bloom in January
and the park melts in trembling drops.
In Yalta - rain ...
Over the pier of seagulls a lonely cry.
The photographer is wrapped in a wet cloak,
winter losses counting.

Between the mountains in the distance
handful of land
in the saucer.
There, having gone crazy
about the wharf of the storm
beating.
The theater only
wet posters
shreds.
Veil through the rain
wet stars crystal
at night.

In Yalta - rain ...
In a cafe on the beach today, not a soul.
In the gazebo remember drunks
their spa novels.
In Yalta - rain ...
And in the sanatoriums in the morning cinema.
The rides sleep in rainy sleep.
They also wake up early.

Morning sleep will interrupt.
Janitor frozen ice
crumbles.
Yellow lanterns
light at the feet of the doors
thrown.
And ripples in my eyes -
rods and mountain ash
clusters.
Snow flies out the window
gray confetti
a handful ...