Singer: Alexander Rosenbaum

Just don't disturb my wounds.

They sew on mourning banners ...

We all have to deficit hunger is terrible,
Sometimes just really want to scream.
Let's be honest: we thought you we - smutki,
You and we simply nowhere to go.
So, I suggest: arrange a round of the secular,
Cover the table, to eat and drink.
My friend Michal Mikhailovich, the inhabitant of Odessa Zhvanetsky,
We get you a little clean.
And for God's sake, don't frighten our citizens
We have free access to a doctor.
And we live in their homes a five-story,
And skyscrapers don't get scared at all.

It's not too late, not early...
How do you live overseas?
Don't worry, wil, I am also in the soap.
How do you live without the Bringing, mate?
It's not too late, not early...
To send us a call from the restaurant.
And if allowed, prepare cabbage,
We will Nachinaem a couple of barrels just like that.

You have in Brighton the weather is good,
We have in Ligovka, as usual, rain.
How do you, children of my people,
For pounds, dollars, not in rubles.
Piled you, so God grant you, friends, luck,
Let you today on Broadway lucky.
And we live here, as lived, do not cry,
What Willy Tokarev in Brighton sings.


Alexander Rothenbaumchaussee stationierte

Oh, give me, dad, Yes to war,
Was the road, now come on Stremyannaya
And the mound, though the box won't sleep
Even add one.
Oh, give me, dad, Yes to war,
Do not forget to put George on the chest
I love you, dad, in the heat of the battle, and I will pray,
When the hostility will run way.
Oh, give me, dad, Yes to war,
Yes, do not be angry, but feels heart - to be trouble,
And let, old the last time I will cling,
Cheek to the wet beard.

Oh, give me, dad, Yes to war,
Yes posedly get you a horse, my
And I'll go, Yes hug, sadness, wife,
If not would she be a widow.
Oh, give me, dad, Yes to war,
Yeah don't worry, you won,
You won see that my son is your dear grandson,
Not spoiled-mischief.

But, removing the coat,
The brainchild of Peter proud not to be thrown in the sea.
Day the hooter Kirov factory,
He palaces as its root.
I want to sing, I my own city laborer,
I want to make, as long as valid and alive
Want to watch with the broken Pulkovo heights,
How you live, how you live, the enemy is not broken people.

I want to live among the canals and bridges,
And to go out with you, Neva banks.
I want to fly, I'm a white Seagull in the morning
Don't breathe over Your miracle Montferrand.
Want to keep the history of his country,
I want to open, Mikhailov Palace for the people.
Want to give, houses familiar from childhood with the view
My dream is to remove the forest from the Savior on spilled Blood.

There came a sadness,
Well, I'm gonna go, I have to share it with anyone.
And green alleys,
In the fluff of the poplars, I walk in the land of the Neva.
Can you tell who: "the Climate here is not the one."
And I need your damp.
Here I became wiser, and with a city of rains,
We smear one world.

The thunder of hundreds of guns I salute base
Was mistaken, probably because I walked like a sheep.
In the sea I for the enemy not pursued never
And in a brutal battle was not to end.
Who will save my honor? Who their blood will wash?
Commander, I beg, look me in the eye.
And he said in answer: "Thou ship of the convoy.
We come, then, that you proved everything!"

The third day we go.
The sun warms the deck.
Not a campaign battle, a posh cruise.
And relaxed transport, leaned on the rail,
Civilian take? But I'm not a tourist.
I know what the silence is worth it
I'm ready every moment to identify them watch.
Devices on "tovs!", I am the ship of the convoy,
I know what it means to expose your Board.
Well, called it: "look out!",
Issued bearing acoustic.
Slightly to the right at the rate the sound of propellers cut up the night.
Fun guys, don't give vent to sadness,
I was waiting for this moment and will be able to help you!
We catch up with her. But why? What is it?
Why "stop the car!", I drift lying?
Why am I not free?.. Why am I in convoy?..
Why myself I don't belong...

In front of the ocean...
My commander calm -
The folly and the risk he is not honored.
Behind the caravan,
I am the ship of the convoy,
And have a transport to bring home.
And I was in the ranks, and I want the fight,
I from the tank to the Utah fever shaking.
But orders are orders: I ship convoy.
It means I do not belong.

Not on days you grew by leaps and bounds, voragen Gypsy
Was the milk you Rosa, was the steppe meadow.
I remember that I would run his heart's content, but to walk Zaman,
Jump like a plague on hitching post, right in the dust lying around.
Well, my grandfather gray smiled in his mustache,
All shouted: "That's crazy, just like his father, son of a bitch.
He was too good to leave the chase.
From ears to tail was on fire - lay".
Anybody to itself did not admit, even with white sugar,
Nurse times the bejesus out of me, oohing and aahing:
"Oh, look, my son, will disappear from the cliff the fool dropped".
Only I knew that will not fail me, my good.
So cute, leaping, but people call me,
Something Hoop steel much heart squeezed.
But nothing far to go,
Take care of yourself, I don't forget.