Текст песни Александр Блок - О доблестях, о подвигах, о славе

About valor, of heroism, of the glory
I forgot in the grievous land
When your face in a simple frame
Before me was shining on the table.

But the hour has come, and you left the house.
I threw the cherished ring into the night.
You gave her the fate of the other,
And I forgot the beautiful face.

The days flew by moving accursed swarm ...
Wine and passion tormented my life ...
And I remembered you before the lectern,
And I called you, like my youth ...

I called you, but you did not look back,
I shed tears, but you do not condescend.
You're in a blue cloak wrapped sad,
In crude night you went out of the house.

I do not know where your shelter pride
You, my dear, you're sweet, found ...
I'm fast asleep, I dream your blue coat,
In which you left in the damp night ...

I do not dream of tenderness, of the glory,
All passed, youth is gone!
Your face in its simple frame
I removed his hand from the table.