Lyrics Сергей Труханов - Больше уже и доказывать нечем...

poems by Grigory Kruzhkov

There is nothing more to prove: the word broke on the word,
Only your singing voice remains - a cello solo.
A bird calling from the fog, from the night swamp ...
Odor rosarium manet in manu etsiam rosa submota.
(The scent of roses remains in the palms, even if a rose is discarded (lat.)

In the morning, first of all, I will move the curtain from the window and see
Red mountain ash in wet bunches, autumn slush fields.
I'll get some black tea from the shelf ... What else if not work?
Odor rosarium manet in manu etsiam rosa submota.

So your pale corolla has crumbled, your pale heart is bloodless,
You will sound like an eternal remembrance in the world of a dull chapel.
Meeting - I will not shudder, I will not even look, the gilding has left the halo.
Odor rosarium manet in manu etsiam rosa submota.

The wind that broke old pines at night in our clearing,
Sent by the black angel of time, for it is known in advance
Everything Isolde will say to Tristan in the morning in the garden of Camelot.
Odor rosarium manet in manu etsiam rosa submota.

Thick cheeks puff peonies, the sun rises behind the forests,
In the thickets of willow, spies whistle with finch voices.
And, clutching a red wound, melting with mortal sweat, -
Odor rosarium manet in manu etsiam rosa submota