Текст песни ПУГАЧЁВА - Старый дом минус

Here floats from childhood
The house, my old house,
Where I sang songs
Grandmother under the window.
Life is somewhere rushing,
But over your head
Everything, everything, everything is spinning
The ball is blue.

In that song, the secret, secret, secret
Both it is remote and sad.
Its motif is uncomplicated
But, as then, I worry.
You have her with me together
Sing, sing, sing, sing!
The blue ball is spinning,
Twists and turns over his head,
Spins, turns, wants to fall,
And the gentleman wants to steal the young lady.
Spins, turns, wants to fall,
And the gentleman wants to steal the young lady.

Here I hear again
That guitar is ringing,
With her as if closer
Dally of former times.
The world is a big orchestra,
And I in it - only a string,
And an old song
My life is full.

 In that song, the secret, secret, secret
Both it is remote and sad.
Its motif is uncomplicated
But, as then, I worry.
You have her with me together
Sing, sing, sing, sing!
Dear long and dark nights,
Yes, with a song that flies away into the distance,
Yes, with the old and the seven-stringed.
That at night so tormented me.

Here floats from childhood
My house, the old house,
Where I sang songs
Grandmother under the window.
The world is a big orchestra,
And everyone in it is a string,
And a good song
My life is full.

 In that song, the secret, secret, secret
Both it is remote and sad.
Its motif is uncomplicated
But, as then, I worry,
You have her with me together
Sing, sing, sing, sing!
Oh, full of my box,
There are chintz and brocade in it.
Have pity, my soul is a feast,
Well done shoulder!
Have pity, my soul is a feast,
Well done shoulder!