Lyrics Тёма Зимнуров - С Днём Рожденья,мама
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С ДНЁМ РОЖДЕНЬЯ,МАМА
Сегодня праздник у тебя,
А я,опять,вдали.
И,вновь открытка,а не я,
Прости меня,прости.
Когда ж фартуна колесо своё
Ко мне направит,
Чтоб каждый праздник,мама,твой
Я мог с тобою справить.
А,пока дорога вдаль,моя,бежит.
Далеко от дома суждено мне жить.
И я телеграмму,вновь,тебе пошлю:
"С Днём Рожденья,мама!Я тебя люблю!"
Сегодня старше стала ты,на год.
И это факт.
Отец и дети младшие,
Вновь,разведут очаг.
И праздничный накроют стол,
А старшие вдали.
Сынок в пути,дочь замужем.
Прости же,мам,прости.
А,пока дорога вдаль,моя,бежит.
Далеко от дома суждено мне жить.
И я телеграмму,вновь,тебе пошлю:
"С Днём Рожденья,мама!Я тебя люблю!"
И,путника с кем по пути
Я попрошу присесть.
Накрою скромный дастархан,
Скажу,что повод есть.
И тост произнесу я свой:
"Родная,за тебя!"
И буду пьян под сенью дня.
Прости же,мам,меня.
А,пока дорога вдаль,моя,бежит.
Далеко от дома суждено мне жить.
И я телеграмму,вновь,тебе пошлю:
"С Днём Рожденья,мама!Я тебя люблю!"
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOTHER
Today is your holiday
And I, again, away.
And again the postcard, not me,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
When is the apron's wheel
Direct to me
So that every holiday, mom, is yours
I could handle you.
And, while the road into the distance, mine, runs.
Far from home I am destined to live.
And I will send you a telegram again:
"Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!"
Today you have become older, by a year.
And that's a fact.
Father and younger children,
Again, they will separate the hearth.
And the festive table will be set
And the elders are far away.
The son is on the way, the daughter is married.
I'm sorry, Mom, I'm sorry.
And, while the road into the distance, mine, runs.
Far from home I am destined to live.
And I will send you a telegram again:
"Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!"
And, a traveler with whom along the way
I will ask you to sit down.
I'll cover a modest dastarkhan,
I will say that there is a reason.
And I will say my toast:
"Dear, for you!"
And I will be drunk in the shadow of the day.
Forgive me, Mom.
And, while the road into the distance, mine, runs.
Far from home I am destined to live.
And I will send you a telegram again:
"Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!"
Today is your holiday
And I, again, away.
And again the postcard, not me,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
When is the apron's wheel
Direct to me
So that every holiday, mom, is yours
I could handle you.
And, while the road into the distance, mine, runs.
Far from home I am destined to live.
And I will send you a telegram again:
"Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!"
Today you have become older, by a year.
And that's a fact.
Father and younger children,
Again, they will separate the hearth.
And the festive table will be set
And the elders are far away.
The son is on the way, the daughter is married.
I'm sorry, Mom, I'm sorry.
And, while the road into the distance, mine, runs.
Far from home I am destined to live.
And I will send you a telegram again:
"Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!"
And, a traveler with whom along the way
I will ask you to sit down.
I'll cover a modest dastarkhan,
I will say that there is a reason.
And I will say my toast:
"Dear, for you!"
And I will be drunk in the shadow of the day.
Forgive me, Mom.
And, while the road into the distance, mine, runs.
Far from home I am destined to live.
And I will send you a telegram again:
"Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!"