Текст песни аудиосказка - моя любимая Сказка о Дожде

The rain did not leave me in the morning.
"Oh, get off!" - I spoke rudely.
He retreated, but faithfully and sadly
again followed me like a little daughter.

The rain, like a wing, has grown to my back.
I gnawed at him:
"Shame on you, you rascal!"
To you in tears the gardener calls!
Go to the flowers!
What did you find in me?

Meanwhile, there was a severe heat around him.
The rain was with me, forgetting about everything in the world.
Around me danced the children,
as near the irrigation machine.

I, with cunning in my heart, entered the cafe.
I hid behind the table, sheltered by a niche.
Rain outside the window fell like a beggar,
and through the glass he wanted to come to me.

I left. And there was my cheek
punished with a slap in the face,
but there and then Rain, in sorrow and courage,
washed my lips with the smell of a puppy.

I think that my look has become ridiculous.
I tied my neck with a raw scarf.
The rain on my shoulder, like a monkey, was sitting.
And the city was embarrassed.

Delighted by my weakness,
he tickled my ear with a child's finger.
The drought was gathering. Everything was dry.
And only I got soaked to the bone.

 2

But I was invited to that house,
where they strictly waited for my greeting,
where over an amber parquet lake
the chandeliers poured clear moon.

I thought: what should I do with Rain?
He will not part with me.
He will inherit there. It will soak carpets.
Yes, they do not let me into the house at all.

I strictly explained: - Kindness
in me it is strong, but all is not boundless.
You do not want to walk with me. "
The rain looked at me like an orphan.

"Well, to hell with you," I decided. "Go!"
What kind of love are you shedding at me?
Oh, this strange climate, be damned! "
Forgiven Rain jumped ahead.

 3

The owner of the house honored me,
which I was not worth. But,
drenched with the whole skin, like muskrat,
I called at the door exactly at six.

Rain, hiding behind my back,
He breathed into the back of his head pitifully and ticklishly.
Steps - peephole - silence - heck.
I apologized: "This Rain is with me."

Excuse me, will he stay on the porch?
It is too wet, too long
for rooms.
- Here's how? - said the surprised
master, changed in the face.

 4

Frankly, I loved this house.
In it, his ballet was always light.
Oh, here the corners do not hurt the elbow,
here the finger does not cut with a knife.

She loved everything: how slowly they crunched
silk mistress, shaded scarf,
and, most of all, captivated by a closet -
my princess sleeping - crystal.

The one in the seven blush-pinked spectrum,
in a glass coffin, dead and charming.
But I woke up. The ritual of greetings,
as an opera, was danced and sung.

 5

The mistress of the house, to be honest,
I would not have loved by all means,
but shyness is not up to date
slightly interfered with her, which was in vain.

- How are you? (O shine of a thunderstorm,
humble in the thin neck of pride!)
"Thank you," I said, "in fever
I flopped like a pig in the mud.

(Something was happening to me this time.
After all, I wanted, bowing weakly, to say:
"I live in vain, but gloriously,
especially since I see you again.)

She said:
- I scold you.
Have mercy, such giftedness!
Through the rain! And distance remoteness!
Everyone cried out:
"To her fire, to the fire!"

"Someday, in time, by another,
on the square, amidst music and battle,
we could see with the drum,
you cried out:
"Into its fire, into the fire!"

For all! For the rain! For after! For then!
For the black magic of the two pupils of the blackest,
for sounds, from lips, like bones of sweet cherry,
flying without any difficulty!

Hello to you! Aim for me to jump.
Fire, my brother, my dog ​​is multilingual!
Lick my hands in great tenderness!
You too - Rain! How wet your burn!

- Your somewhat bizarre monologue, -
the host said stung.
But, however, the glory grew green!
There is a charm in the generation of the young.

"Do not listen to me!" After all, I'm delirious! "
I asked. It's all Rain above