Монолог - Повесть о Сонечке - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

How I love to love ...

And you ever forget when you love that you love? I never. It is like a toothache, only on the contrary, a coatful toothache. Only there whines, and here there are no words.

What are they wild fools. Those who do not like themselves do not like it seems to be loved. I'm not saying, of course, but get up like a wall. But you know, there is no such wall that I would not break through.

And you notice how they are all, even the most kissing, even the most, as if loving, so afraid to say this word? How are they never talking to him? One explained to me that it was rudely behind that why is the word when there are things, that is, kisses and so on. And I: "No. It does not prove anything yet. And the word is everything!"

I just need it from this person. I love "anything else. Let then not like anything, anything does, I will not believe things. Because the word was. I only fed this word. That is why he exists.

And what are these stingy, calcined, fearless. I always want to say: "You just say. I will not check." But they do not say because they think it is to marry, contact, not to unleash. "If I first say, I will never be able to leave." And they do not speak the second, nicotheras. As if you can not go with me. I never left the first in life. And how much in life, God will let go, I will not go first. I just can not. I do everything so that the other left. Because I will go first to go - it's easier to go through your own corpse.

What a terrible word. Mortally dead. Understood. This is the dead, whom no one ever loved. But you know, for me and there is no such dead.

I never went inside the first. Never first never stopped love. Always until the most recent opportunity. To the very last droplet. How when you drink in childhood and it's hot from an empty glass, and you pull everything, pull, pull. And only your own pairs.

You will laugh, I will tell you one short story, in one tour. No matter who, very young, and I madly fell in love with him. He sat down in the first row all evening, and poorly dressed, he sat down on the money. And in the eyes. On the third evening, I looked at me, that either the eyes would jump out, either jumped on the stage. After all, I'm moving, but myself everything is killed "Well, what? Still sits." Only you need to understand, it was not an ordinary male in love, eating a look. He was almost a boy. It was a drinking look. He looked like confession. For sure I am his every word, like on a thread, like on a thread, as the rope attracted. This feeling should know the mermaids. And more violinists, or rather a bow and river, and fires. What is, here turns into me like in the fire. I just do not know how to prey. I had such a feeling all the time that in it, in these eyes, weave. And when I'm behind the scenes, behind these unfortunate scenes, kissed, I know that this is a terrible vulgarity, I did not have a single feeling. Except one. "Saved". It lasted terribly short, we had nothing to tell about something. In principle, I said everything, I said, said, and then silent, because it is impossible in response to my words only eyes, kisses.

And I'm lying in the morning, until in the morning. I still sleep, no longer sleep. And all the time I repeat something. Lips, words. Listened and know what it was? "I also like it. Another little, mommes like". Only you do not think, I'm not his sleeping, asked. We lived in different places and in general ... I asked the air. Maybe God asked. Stretch a little bit. Pulled out. He could not, I could. And never found out. And a strict father, General in Moscow, who does not know what I play. I seem to have a friend, and then suddenly will go back ..

And I will never forget, so it did not alleviate. Because love love, but justice justice. He is not to blame that I no longer like it. It is not wine, but trouble. Not his fault, but my trouble. I don't care what to smash the service and be angry that it is not iron.