Текст песни Виктор Луферов - Разговор с мамой поздней осенью

Red, blue, blue -
Choose yourself any.

This is our law of human,
And no children rhymes:
If you select blue,
Blue did not take, and it is a pity.
However, this restraint.
In other such little -
It was, but only to fall,
The thread remains in the hands.

What are you, my mother?
Nothing, dear heart.
Autumn caulk wounds
How long empty skvorechni,
Clean swept our yard -
Not a blade of grass or a speck of dust.
Somewhere radio sings,
As trading in the market.

In the way we will soon be invited
Along the street deserted.
All understand about heaven and hell:
Life was wonderful and marvelous.
It remains only one thing:
About myself softly sing ...
The most common - the sky is blue,
At least - under your feet look.

What are you, my mother?
Change the conversation.
And is the spring of hope,
Overgrown with grass yard.
And then, oh, my mom,
There will be a year ago:
Heal the whole yard with grass,
And starlings wail.

& lt; 1976 & gt;