Текст песни Мария Пахоменко - Лучше нету того цвету

No better for the color

Words M. Isakovsky
Music M. Blanter

No better color,
When the apple blossoms ,
No better the minute
When my dear come.
When I see how I hear -
Everything in me to speak ,
My whole soul burns ,
My whole soul burns .

We are in each other's eyes look,
Hands hot gossip
And where - we do not know ourselves,
Like a drunken delirium.
And all around the gardens whiten ,
A raging in the gardens in May ,
And this month the sky -
Although needles pick them up .

We wandered in those paths,
Where no grass Cochin ,
Where the heart of themselves torn
Unforgettable words.
Across the river harmonica playing -
That will fill , then freeze ...
No better color,
When the apple blossoms .