Krec - Olga ENG
Chorus
In these eyes you see all her life and dreams
In the windows of vintage houses
The narrowed eyes could only hide.
She sees this place for the very last time
Where her childhood will surely end.
She was running away while roads were wet
With a Nabokov's tome close to her heart.
A girl, a teen, a woman..the old age came unnoticed
When the piers felt the wind
Blowing in the night.
"We old people are broken with coughing,
And the only escape is in sleep."
An old widow Olga kept groaning to me.
But the weather isn't good for her no more.
"Where are you calling?" Knocked the walls
In her dusty musty room living all alone.
"I saw the God, and blood on His palms",
Old lady wearing coat whispered to me.
She bequeathed the grandchildren her flat
Only to get potassium cyanide in her tea.
All this smells of ginger in the dreams
And spring is melting faster than you said
Somewhere fall already autumn leaves.
Too thin walls and too weak is the light
So many years have passed in the shadows
We are these shadows of the time.
A heartbeat seems like whip in her chest
Or a sound of a distant melody,
Of random strangers whispering.
What keeps me warm in the night is the rustle
Of vinyls played and photos dear after years gone.
Will anyone help her find the stalker,
The one who's getting her back where she belongs?
Through the depths of the mind there is no way left
Back into the sunlitten years, even guided.
And the nostalgia was so deep and sad
Morphine was strong enough to kill the pain hiding.
Wrote letters to her dear relatives
"How do you do, mother" solid strings
Went further about eternal memory.
Because we can't stop the ice thawing
Unable to repeat, don't try to play with it.
Remember the last time? you were wrong
When your grandson was shouting
And head hitting that concrete wall.
But you kept saying "He can't be.."
No, just close your eyes for now
Just show me your wrinkled palm
It will tell us the story of years lived.
One, another year gone for nothing
There are no irreplaceable people.
Chorus
In these eyes you see all her life and dreams
In the windows of vintage houses
The narrowed eyes could only hide.
She sees this place for the very last time
Where her childhood will surely end.
She was running away while roads were wet
With a Nabokov's tome close to her heart.
A girl, a teen, a woman..the old age came unnoticed
When the piers felt the wind
Blowing in the night.
Wednesday, eight AM. Everyone gets up
To go to work or study in the college
But she gets up for other reasons
Despite terrible pain in all her body
Struggling to walk, she keeps going on
Until she comes to an underground entrance
Or a shining church spiking the sky.
You can see her there at any time:
An elderly lady near the golden gate
Reaching out for coin with her bare hand...
Her life is a drama and unhealing wound
To have lasted longer than her children's.
All days seem to be blurred in a one
Grey gamma of monotonous clouds.
She goes to sleep late in the night
Only to rise early in the morning.
Through her window watching couples
Dancing at an alley full of November air
In a shade of ancient red maple.
And shines the gloomy silver in her hair.
Chorus
In these eyes you see all her life and dreams
In the windows of vintage houses
The narrowed eyes could only hide.
She sees this place for the very last time
Where her childhood will surely end.
She was running away while roads were wet
With a Nabokov's tome close to her heart.
A girl, a teen, a woman..the old age came unnoticed
When the piers felt the wind
Blowing in the night.
Olga Petrovna washes floors and marble walls.
She is very sure the system ate her money.
Remembering Stalin with eyes full of tears
Sometimes she wears darned coat with medals on.
"It's all gone now, sold, gifted to the children,
Everything is stolen from me!" She screamed.
In empty rooms of shared flat the poor
Half-people are spitting on the floor
And small Seryozha hates his dad
While he listens to him shouting
At wife Irina: "Remember shit I've said?
Now I have to care not just for you,
But also the small bastard and old bitch, burn yourself!"
Seryozha then stopped looking for an exit out of hell.
There was no exit for the weak and cried-out eyes.
When the tears were gone, grey hair grew to paralyze
On the heads of poor old women, long-forgotten,
Hungry and ill, with husbands dead much time ago,
They kept feeding youngsters, in return getting no help at all
If only for a cold and slippery coin out of the pocket...
Original text in Russian (c) by Krec, Ассаи, Смоки Мо.
In these eyes you see all her life and dreams
In the windows of vintage houses
The narrowed eyes could only hide.
She sees this place for the very last time
Where her childhood will surely end.
She was running away while roads were wet
With a Nabokov's tome close to her heart.
A girl, a teen, a woman..the old age came unnoticed
When the piers felt the wind
Blowing in the night.
"We old people are broken with coughing,
And the only escape is in sleep."
An old widow Olga kept groaning to me.
But the weather isn't good for her no more.
"Where are you calling?" Knocked the walls
In her dusty musty room living all alone.
"I saw the God, and blood on His palms",
Old lady wearing coat whispered to me.
She bequeathed the grandchildren her flat
Only to get potassium cyanide in her tea.
All this smells of ginger in the dreams
And spring is melting faster than you said
Somewhere fall already autumn leaves.
Too thin walls and too weak is the light
So many years have passed in the shadows
We are these shadows of the time.
A heartbeat seems like whip in her chest
Or a sound of a distant melody,
Of random strangers whispering.
What keeps me warm in the night is the rustle
Of vinyls played and photos dear after years gone.
Will anyone help her find the stalker,
The one who's getting her back where she belongs?
Through the depths of the mind there is no way left
Back into the sunlitten years, even guided.
And the nostalgia was so deep and sad
Morphine was strong enough to kill the pain hiding.
Wrote letters to her dear relatives
"How do you do, mother" solid strings
Went further about eternal memory.
Because we can't stop the ice thawing
Unable to repeat, don't try to play with it.
Remember the last time? you were wrong
When your grandson was shouting
And head hitting that concrete wall.
But you kept saying "He can't be.."
No, just close your eyes for now
Just show me your wrinkled palm
It will tell us the story of years lived.
One, another year gone for nothing
There are no irreplaceable people.
Chorus
In these eyes you see all her life and dreams
In the windows of vintage houses
The narrowed eyes could only hide.
She sees this place for the very last time
Where her childhood will surely end.
She was running away while roads were wet
With a Nabokov's tome close to her heart.
A girl, a teen, a woman..the old age came unnoticed
When the piers felt the wind
Blowing in the night.
Wednesday, eight AM. Everyone gets up
To go to work or study in the college
But she gets up for other reasons
Despite terrible pain in all her body
Struggling to walk, she keeps going on
Until she comes to an underground entrance
Or a shining church spiking the sky.
You can see her there at any time:
An elderly lady near the golden gate
Reaching out for coin with her bare hand...
Her life is a drama and unhealing wound
To have lasted longer than her children's.
All days seem to be blurred in a one
Grey gamma of monotonous clouds.
She goes to sleep late in the night
Only to rise early in the morning.
Through her window watching couples
Dancing at an alley full of November air
In a shade of ancient red maple.
And shines the gloomy silver in her hair.
Chorus
In these eyes you see all her life and dreams
In the windows of vintage houses
The narrowed eyes could only hide.
She sees this place for the very last time
Where her childhood will surely end.
She was running away while roads were wet
With a Nabokov's tome close to her heart.
A girl, a teen, a woman..the old age came unnoticed
When the piers felt the wind
Blowing in the night.
Olga Petrovna washes floors and marble walls.
She is very sure the system ate her money.
Remembering Stalin with eyes full of tears
Sometimes she wears darned coat with medals on.
"It's all gone now, sold, gifted to the children,
Everything is stolen from me!" She screamed.
In empty rooms of shared flat the poor
Half-people are spitting on the floor
And small Seryozha hates his dad
While he listens to him shouting
At wife Irina: "Remember shit I've said?
Now I have to care not just for you,
But also the small bastard and old bitch, burn yourself!"
Seryozha then stopped looking for an exit out of hell.
There was no exit for the weak and cried-out eyes.
When the tears were gone, grey hair grew to paralyze
On the heads of poor old women, long-forgotten,
Hungry and ill, with husbands dead much time ago,
They kept feeding youngsters, in return getting no help at all
If only for a cold and slippery coin out of the pocket...
Original text in Russian (c) by Krec, Ассаи, Смоки Мо.
Метки:
