Текст песни Булат Окуджава - Я пишу исторический роман

The bottle of dark glass
out of imported beer
red rose bloomed
proudly and slowly.
Historical novel
I wrote a little,
making the way, as in a fog,
from prologue to epilogue.

Chorus:
Everyone writes what he hears,
one hears, as he breathes,
as he breathes, and writes,
not trying to please ...
So nature has wanted,
why - not our business,
why - not for us to judge.

They were given blue,
It was in excess of fiction.
And because of their own destiny
I pull out on a string.
The path of the hero fitted out,
suggestive of the past Help
and a lieutenant in resignation
himself imagined.

Chorus

The invention is not a hoax.
The plan - not the point.
Give write a novel
to the last leaf.
And while still alive
Red Rose in a bottle,
give shout out the words,
that for a long time lying in the bank.

Chorus

1975