My girl is sleeping, helplessly curled up in a ball.
Clutching a tired soft bear to his chest.
I would have stayed with her. Absolutely, if I could,
But to shred this soul by myself is even too much for me.
My girl dreams of Moscow and, probably, I,
I once knew how to guard her sleep from nightmares.
I would hug her, blissfully covering my eyes.
But why leave terrible scars on her back.
My girl drinks orange-apple fresh.
I taught her not to pour her pain with alcohol.
I would be able to heal the hole in this heart,
But why subjugate an already broken will.
My girl is crying, pain is dripping from her eyes.
Like a naive child, he presses his palms to his cheeks.
I would have gathered the bitter salt from her face with my lips,
But why does she need my pathetic tenderness crumbs.
My girl loves warmth, sails and... me,
And he's afraid that I won't come back, I'll forget one day.
I could let go! I would quit! Yes, but all in vain…
I'll be back, my girl, nothing else matters.