Текст песни Владимир Скобцов - Венок сонетов.Запись 13

We are waiting for the arrival of December -
And the leaves of the yellow pages,
And stitch bird swirls
The blue notebook in November.

        And I ask: Lord, forgive me,
        What life is lived as horrible,
        But the fall - so little time,
        You soul to let go home.

They are waiting for me, not the lights go down,
There's our shadows in the doorway,
And that which is of God,
On the night of the outgoing silhouette.

        Bring her back, the Lord, give -
        The love with which I parted
        The one whose prayer life was -
        Bless her, Lord Save.

Autumn raise the anchor.
Not for us to decide when to leave,
To swim away who stay
And wait for the arrival of December.

        When the winter will come to me,
        Face utknus into your hands I.
        Deliver, Lord, we are being separated
        In this side of heaven.