Текст песни Юрий Визбор - Я СХОЖУ СЕБЕ ПО ТРАПУ

This is as if the fate of the first start,
In the concrete pier at the last column
There were floats away,
Here, the land is already close,
 Here, the blue scarf I squinted looking for.

              And forget, almost,
              These few minutes -
         Here, I once waited
             And now I do not wait.
               White foam soft paw
               BEAUTY wave of the lighthouse,
              I'll go myself up the ladder,
              I'll go myself up the ladder -
               Independent sailor.

But all the time calling distant sea,
All somewhere to swim, choosing anchors
So we are of someone's fates,
How departed from the pier,
So our people go, like ships at sea.

       Goodbye, dear,
       You no fluff, no pen,
       Suppose you met a friend
       Only passing wind!
       The sea sparkles blue,
       Seagulls white scurry,
       No not allude to that,
       Just sing a song ...