Lyrics Вадим и Валерий Мищуки - Александр Иванов, Хандра
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Hm C# Am H7
Меня никто не слышит, пою один в пустоте.
Em Am Em G D7 G
Гитара сумрак колышет, ми-илая мне не пишет,
F#7 F Em F#7 H7
Не пишет, не пишет в своей простоте.
A9 F9 Em6 A A6 D7+
Быть может, о жизни нашей милая знает одно,
G C# F# Hm
Что море - полною чашей и каждый вечер кино.
H7 E A7 D7+
Откуда ей знать, далекой, что в трале была дыра,
G7 C#7 F#7 Hm
И утром под чаячий клекот на судно вползла хандра.
Хандра висит на вантах, вцепилась в перо руля,
На горло вяжется бантом, ноет сладчайшим дискантом
О том, как прекрасна родная земля.
Тоскует по рыбьему брюху широкий рыбацкий нож,
И почта ушла по слухам, а сейнер, увы, не вернешь,
Лишь кэп все честит кого-то, да сверху кричит "Не дрейфь!"
Но тоже, хандрой измотан, готов завалиться в дрейф.
А рыбу как ветром сдуло, а рыбы простыл и след.
На палубе пляшут акулы, скукою сводит скулы,
Ни плана, ни пая, ни счастья в жизни нет.
Гитарой в своей каюте старых друзей соберу,
И в дымном парном уюте будем лечить хандру.
Крепким несладким чаем, трубкою с табаком,
И до утра нескончаемым северным говорком.
А утром старпома глодка всем протрубит "Аврал!"
И траловая лебедка вытащит полный трал.
Навстречу ему со всхлипом в блеске стальных вожжей
Хандра соскользнет по слипу и не всплывет уже.
Меня никто не слышит.....
Hm C # Am H7
Nobody hears me, I sing alone in the void.
Em Am Em G D7 G
Guitar twilight dusk, mi-laya does not write to me,
F # 7 F Em F # 7 H7
Does not write, does not write in its simplicity.
A9 F9 Em6 A A6 D7 +
Perhaps the darling knows one thing about our life,
G C # F # Hm
What a sea - a full bowl and every night a movie.
H7 E A7 D7 +
How did she know, distant, that there was a hole in the trawl,
G7 C # 7 F # 7 Hm
And in the morning, a melancholy scream crawled into the ship under a tea scream.
The spleen hangs on the guys, grabbed the feather of the steering wheel,
He knits a bow on his throat, aching with a sweet treble
About how beautiful the native land is.
Longing for a fish belly a wide fishing knife,
And the mail went according to rumors, but the seiner, alas, cannot be returned,
As soon as the cap honors everyone, it shouts from above, "Don't drift!"
But also, spleen exhausted, ready to fall into a drift.
And the fish was blown away by the wind, and the fish caught a cold.
On the deck, sharks dance, boredom drives cheekbones,
There is no plan, no share, no happiness in life.
I’ll gather old friends with a guitar in my cabin,
And in a smoky pair of comfort we will treat the spleen.
Strong unsweetened tea, a pipe with tobacco,
And until the morning endless northern talk.
And in the morning the starpom of the hunger will sound “Abral!”
And the trawl winch will pull out a full trawl.
To meet him with a sob in the brilliance of steel reins
The spleen will slip along the slipway and will not come up already.
Nobody hears me .....
Nobody hears me, I sing alone in the void.
Em Am Em G D7 G
Guitar twilight dusk, mi-laya does not write to me,
F # 7 F Em F # 7 H7
Does not write, does not write in its simplicity.
A9 F9 Em6 A A6 D7 +
Perhaps the darling knows one thing about our life,
G C # F # Hm
What a sea - a full bowl and every night a movie.
H7 E A7 D7 +
How did she know, distant, that there was a hole in the trawl,
G7 C # 7 F # 7 Hm
And in the morning, a melancholy scream crawled into the ship under a tea scream.
The spleen hangs on the guys, grabbed the feather of the steering wheel,
He knits a bow on his throat, aching with a sweet treble
About how beautiful the native land is.
Longing for a fish belly a wide fishing knife,
And the mail went according to rumors, but the seiner, alas, cannot be returned,
As soon as the cap honors everyone, it shouts from above, "Don't drift!"
But also, spleen exhausted, ready to fall into a drift.
And the fish was blown away by the wind, and the fish caught a cold.
On the deck, sharks dance, boredom drives cheekbones,
There is no plan, no share, no happiness in life.
I’ll gather old friends with a guitar in my cabin,
And in a smoky pair of comfort we will treat the spleen.
Strong unsweetened tea, a pipe with tobacco,
And until the morning endless northern talk.
And in the morning the starpom of the hunger will sound “Abral!”
And the trawl winch will pull out a full trawl.
To meet him with a sob in the brilliance of steel reins
The spleen will slip along the slipway and will not come up already.
Nobody hears me .....