Дмитрий Казинец - Михаил Булгаков - Мастер и Маргарита- отрывок - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Mikhail Bulgakov - Master and Margarita

She carried in the hands of disgusting, disturbing yellow flowers.

Damn them knows how their name is, but they are the first for some reason appear in Moscow.

And these flowers were very clearly distinguished on its black spring coat.

She carried yellow flowers! Not good color.

She turned with Tver in the alley and then turned around. Well, Tverskaya do you know? Thousands of people went through Tver, but I handle you that she saw me alone and looked not what was disturbing, but even as if painfully.

And I am struck not so much of her beauty, how much extraordinary, no one was seen solitude in the eyes!

Obeying this yellow sign, I also turned in the alley and went to her traces.

We walked along the curve, a boring alley is silent, I'm on one side, and she is different. And it was not, imagine, neither the soul in the alley.

I suffered because it seemed to me that with her I need to say, and worried that I would not exhale a single word, and she would go away, and I would never see her more ...

And, imagine, she suddenly spoke:

- Do you like my flowers?

I clearly remember how her voice sounded, low pretty, but with breakdowns, and, no matter how stupid, it seemed that the echo hit the alley

and reflected from the yellow dirty wall.

I quickly switched to her side and, coming to her, answered:

- Not.

She looked at me surprised, and I suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, I realized that I loved this woman all my life!

Colin Maccalo

"Singing in the thorns"

There is such a legend - about the bird, which sings only once for a lifetime, but it is more beautiful in the world ...

One day she leaves his nest and flies to look for a black bush and will not calm down until it finds ...

Among the prickly branches, she seals the song and rushes his chest on the longest, most acute spike. And, towering over the unspecified flour,

So sings, dying that the larks and nightingaws would envy this journal song ...

The only, incomparable song, and goes to the price of life ...

But the whole world freezes, listening, and God himself smiles in heaven ...

For all the best is bought only by the price of great suffering ....

At least, so says the legend .....

Bird with a thorns spike in the breast obeys the immutable law of nature; She herself does not know what for the power makes her rush to the edge and die with the song ...

In that moment, when the spike pierces her heart, she does not think about close death, she just sings, sings until the voice runs out and the breath will not break ...

But we, when we rush to the chest on the thorns - we know, we understand

And anyway - the chest on the thorny ...

It'll be this way forever...