Lyrics Александр Вертинский - Принцесса Ирен
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Я безумно боюсь золотистого плена
Ваших медно-змеиных волос,
Я влюблен в Ваше тонкое имя "Ирена"
И в следы Ваших слез.
Я влюблен в Ваши гордые, польские руки,
В эту кровь голубых королей,
В эту бледность лица, до восторга, до муки
Обожженного песней моей.
Разве можно забыть эти детские плечи,
Этот горький, заплаканный рот...
И акцент Вашей польской изысканной речи,
И ресниц утомленных полет?
А крылатые брови? а лоб Беатриче?
А весна в повороте лица?..
О, как трудно любить в этом мире приличий,
О, как больно любить без конца!
И бледнеть, и терпеть, и не сметь увлекаться,
И, зажав свое сердце в руке,
Осторожно уйти, навсегда отказаться -
И еще улыбаться в тоске.
Не могу, не хочу, наконец - не желаю!
И, приветствуя радостный плен,
Я со сцены Вам сердце, как мячик, бросаю.
Ну, ловите, принцесса Ирен!
I'm terribly afraid of golden captivity
Your copper-snake hair,
I'm in love with your fine name "Irene"
And in the traces of your tears.
I'm in love with your proud, Polish hands,
In this blood of blue kings,
In this pallor of the face, to delight, to flour
Burned by my song.
Is it possible to forget these children's shoulders,
This bitter, tearful mouth ...
And the emphasis of your Polish exquisite speech,
And the eyelashes of a tired flight?
And the winged eyebrows? and Beatrice's forehead?
And spring in the turn of the face? ..
Oh, how difficult it is to love decency in this world,
Oh, it hurts to love without end!
And pale, and endure, and do not dare to get carried away,
And, holding your heart in your hand,
Carefully leave, forever refuse -
And smile in grief.
I can not, I do not want to, I do not want to!
And, greeting the joyful captivity,
I'm throwing your heart off the stage like a ball.
Well, catch, Princess Irene!
Your copper-snake hair,
I'm in love with your fine name "Irene"
And in the traces of your tears.
I'm in love with your proud, Polish hands,
In this blood of blue kings,
In this pallor of the face, to delight, to flour
Burned by my song.
Is it possible to forget these children's shoulders,
This bitter, tearful mouth ...
And the emphasis of your Polish exquisite speech,
And the eyelashes of a tired flight?
And the winged eyebrows? and Beatrice's forehead?
And spring in the turn of the face? ..
Oh, how difficult it is to love decency in this world,
Oh, it hurts to love without end!
And pale, and endure, and do not dare to get carried away,
And, holding your heart in your hand,
Carefully leave, forever refuse -
And smile in grief.
I can not, I do not want to, I do not want to!
And, greeting the joyful captivity,
I'm throwing your heart off the stage like a ball.
Well, catch, Princess Irene!