Фортуна - Александр Кузнецов

Ты долго по земле босое счастье искал,

И крик бродячих песен обрывался со скал,

Ты выдумал за горизонтом призрачный рай,

И эхо за спиной отозвалось «Выбирай,

На пан или пропал с судьбой в рулетку сыгpай, шар кинем».

И завертелось колесо, и опалило висок,

И Бог не Дьявол, не знал куда занесёт,

И Бог не Дьявол, не знал на какое число сфартило.

А где-то пела метель, в домах стелили постель,

А ты по миру ходил искать ту дверь,

А ты искал, но дороги свинцовым дождём размыло.

Жизнь перекати-поле, за верстою верста,

Уносит ветер волю горький запах костра,

И память, девка глупая, в пути адресат забыла.

Но не забыло сердце, через реку паром,

Там за добро, как водится, ответят добром,

Но бьёт кайлом паромщик, та река подо льдом застыла.

И завертелось колесо, и опалило висок,

И Бог не Дьявол, не знал куда занесёт,

И Бог не Дьявол, не знал на какое число сфартило.

А где-то пела метель, в домах стелили постель,

А ты по миру ходил искать ту дверь,

А ты искал, но дороги свинцовым дождём размыло.

И завертелось колесо, и опалило висок,

И Бог не Дьявол, не знал куда занесёт,

И Бог не Дьявол, не знал на какое число сфартило.

А где-то пела метель, в домах стелили постель,

А ты по миру ходил искать ту дверь,

А ты искал, но дороги свинцовым дождём размыло.

А где-то пела метель, в домах стелили постель,

А ты по миру ходил искать ту дверь,

А ты искал, но дороги свинцовым дождём размыло.

Ты долго по земле босое счастье искал.

You have been looking for barefoot happiness for a long time,

And the cry of wandering songs broke off the rocks,

You invented a ghostly paradise beyond the horizon,

And the echo behind me said "Choose,

Play roulette with fate or disappear with fate, we will throw the ball.

And the wheel spun and burned the temple,

And God is not the Devil, he did not know where he would take,

And God is not the Devil, he did not know how lucky he was.

And somewhere a blizzard sang, beds were made in the houses,

And you went around the world looking for that door,

And you were looking, but the roads were washed away by lead rain.

Life is a tumbleweed, a mile away,

The wind carries away the bitter smell of a fire,

And memory, stupid girl, forgot the addressee on the way.

But the heart did not forget, a ferry across the river,

There for good, as usual, they will answer with good,

But the ferryman hits with a pick, that river froze under the ice.

And the wheel spun and burned the temple,

And God is not the Devil, he did not know where he would take,

And God is not the Devil, he did not know how lucky he was.

And somewhere a blizzard sang, beds were made in the houses,

And you went around the world looking for that door,

And you were looking, but the roads were washed away by lead rain.

And the wheel spun and burned the temple,

And God is not the Devil, he did not know where he would take,

And God is not the Devil, he did not know how lucky he was.

And somewhere a blizzard sang, beds were made in the houses,

And you went around the world looking for that door,

And you were looking, but the roads were washed away by lead rain.

And somewhere a blizzard sang, beds were made in the houses,

And you went around the world looking for that door,

And you were looking, but the roads were washed away by lead rain.

You have been looking for barefoot happiness on the ground for a long time.