Снова с погодой какие-то фокусы: Медленный дождь, словно тягостный сон. Из-под земли рвутся синие крокусы - Ты не грусти, будет новый сезон!
Будут вершины в серебряном инее Выше звезды и прекрасней мечты, А если что, так ведь крокусы синие, - Самые лучшие в мире цветы! Poems: Igor Vinogradsky Music: Alexandra Solomonova
Again with the weather some tricks: Slow rain like a dream. Blue crocuses rush out of the ground - Seen really over the season.
They are torn into impenetrable midnight Burst through noon, forgetting everything, Rush to our souls, as calls for help Those who have graduated from their season forever.
Crocuses are clean, fragile, light, You are like letters from those who are not, You are like the songs of their inadequate Ile in the snow trail broke off!
Who has not renounced friends and roads, Who else remembers the blizzard singing I ask you: do not touch the crocuses - In each of them, someone's memory lives!
Someone's tops are unconquered, Someone's unfulfilled dreams Some brides who have not become wives Someone's burnt bridges ...
Again with the weather some tricks: Slow rain like a dream. Blue crocuses rush out of the ground - You do not be sad, there will be a new season!
There will be tops in silver hoarfrost Above the stars and more beautiful dreams And if that, because crocuses are blue, - The best flowers in the world!