В.А. Моцарт - Фуга Фа Минор - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

... Behind the wall, in the room where von Ernen remained, someone played on the piano, and the very fugue Fuga Fier Minor Mozart, the topic of which cocaine and melancholy made me remember last night. I literally darkened in my eyes - I introduced myself a cadavre, woodenly hitting on the keys, fingers sticking out from under the coat thrown over him, I realized that yesterday's nightmare had not ended. It is difficult to convey the confusion that has gripped me.

... “Good morning,” he said, continuing to play. - It is gratifying to see what in the morning you think about the soul.

- What are you doing here? I asked, carefully laying the crucifix on the lid of the piano next to his saber.

“I'm trying,” he said, “play one rather difficult play.” But, unfortunately, it is written for four hands, and now the passage is approaching, which I can’t cope with one. Would you be so kind to help me so kind? You seem to know this thing.

As if in some kind of trance, I put the Mauser into the holster, stood nearby and, having improved the moment, lowered my fingers onto the keys. My counterpoint barely kept up with the topic, and I was mistaken several times, then my gaze fell again on the open legs of von Ernen, and the whole absurdity of what was happening came to me ...

“Unknown,” he said. - I never understood why God was to be people in an ugly human body. In my opinion, a perfect melody would be a much more suitable form - one that could be listened and listened to endlessly.

- Who are you? I asked.

“My last name Chapaev,” the stranger answered.