...таинственная, загадочная... даже тогда, когда ты будешь думать, что все обо мне знаешь... знай, это иллюзия...
If my heart is crystal,
That it into smithereens would break,
Because everything that was grew fond,
Has responded only laughter in it.
If my tears gold are,
I would be richest than people.
Would bribe then wordly judges,
That they have allocated you with love.
Why my soul not from water?
You would experience all its depths.
Would not find a scrap of deceptive ooze,
And never would feel troubles.
Why my dreams again the colour?
For this purpose, to reflect grief?
They attract in a fantastic dIf my heart is crystal,
That it into smithereens would break,
Because everything that was grew fond,
Has responded only laughter in it.
If my tears gold are,
I would be richest than people.
Would bribe then wordly judges,
That they have allocated you with love.
Why my soul not from water?
You would experience all its depths.
Would not find a scrap of deceptive ooze,
And never would feel troubles.
Why my dreams again the colour?
For this purpose, to reflect grief?
They attract in a fantastic distance,
Reserving ways simple.
If my hands are from fire,
That in your heart ice floes would be kindled,
And dreams with happiness would become uniform,
You have not managed to forget me.
You do not give colours, as the love ordered.
Why, my friend, you pierce with a pain?
Flowers would be allocated by love,
I would weave a wreath and you of a plot.istance,
Reserving ways simple.
If my hands are from fire,
That in your heart ice floes would be kindled,
And dreams with happiness would become uniform,
You have not managed to forget me.
You do not give colours, as the love ordered.
Why, my friend, you pierce with a pain?
Flowers would be allocated by love,
I would weave a wreath and you of a plot.
That it into smithereens would break,
Because everything that was grew fond,
Has responded only laughter in it.
If my tears gold are,
I would be richest than people.
Would bribe then wordly judges,
That they have allocated you with love.
Why my soul not from water?
You would experience all its depths.
Would not find a scrap of deceptive ooze,
And never would feel troubles.
Why my dreams again the colour?
For this purpose, to reflect grief?
They attract in a fantastic dIf my heart is crystal,
That it into smithereens would break,
Because everything that was grew fond,
Has responded only laughter in it.
If my tears gold are,
I would be richest than people.
Would bribe then wordly judges,
That they have allocated you with love.
Why my soul not from water?
You would experience all its depths.
Would not find a scrap of deceptive ooze,
And never would feel troubles.
Why my dreams again the colour?
For this purpose, to reflect grief?
They attract in a fantastic distance,
Reserving ways simple.
If my hands are from fire,
That in your heart ice floes would be kindled,
And dreams with happiness would become uniform,
You have not managed to forget me.
You do not give colours, as the love ordered.
Why, my friend, you pierce with a pain?
Flowers would be allocated by love,
I would weave a wreath and you of a plot.istance,
Reserving ways simple.
If my hands are from fire,
That in your heart ice floes would be kindled,
And dreams with happiness would become uniform,
You have not managed to forget me.
You do not give colours, as the love ordered.
Why, my friend, you pierce with a pain?
Flowers would be allocated by love,
I would weave a wreath and you of a plot.
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19.06.2010 в 20:30Если б мое сердце было хрусталем,
То оно бы вдребезги разбилось,
Потому что всё, что полюбилось,
Отозвалось только смехом в нем.
Если б мои слезы золотые были,
Я б была богаче всех людей.
Подкупила бы тогда мирских судей,
Чтоб они тебя любовью наделили.
Почему моя душа не из воды?
Ты б изведал все ее глубины.
Не нашел бы ни клочка обманной тины,
И ни разу б не почувствовал беды.
Почему мои мечты опять цветные?
Для того, чтоб отражать печаль?
Они манят в сказочную даль,
Оставляя за собой пути простые.
Если б мои руки были из огня,
То в твоем бы сердце растопились льдины,
И мечты бы стали с счастьем едины,
Ты бы позабыть не сумел меня.
Ты цветов не даришь, как любовь велела.
Почему же, друг мой, ты пронзаешь болью?
Были бы цветы наделены любовью,
Я б сплела венок и тебе надела.