Любовь Успенская — Вареники с вишнями song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Вареники с вишнями" by Любовь Успенская.
Lyrics
Всё это было в самом деле и на печи, на дворовой,
У нас вареники кипели и пахло вишней и травой.
А мы куда-то собирались и наши старшие в дому
Нам объяснить не постарались, куда, зачем и почему.
Вареники с вишнями, вареники с вишнями
В саду, как скаженные поют соловьи.
Возможно мы были там, как будто бы лишними,
Мы были там лишними и здесь не свои,
И здесь не свои.
Красивый город Сан-Франциско и у меня полно всего,
Но, как отсюдова не близко до песни детства моего.
Вареники с вишнями, вареники с вишнями
В саду, как скаженные поют соловьи.
Возможно мы были там, как будто бы лишними,
Мы были там лишними и здесь не свои,
И здесь не свои.
И до сих пор, оттуда свыше и не проходит вдалеке,
Той печки дым и запах вишен, и руки мамины в муке.
Вареники с вишнями, вареники с вишнями
В саду, как скаженные поют соловьи.
Возможно мы были там, как будто бы лишними,
Мы были там лишними и здесь не свои,
И здесь не свои.
Вареники с вишнями, вареники с вишнями
В саду, как скаженные поют соловьи.
Возможно мы были там, как будто бы лишними,
Мы были там лишними и здесь не свои,
И здесь не свои.
Lyrics translation
All this was in fact on the stove, on the yard,
Our dumplings were boiling and smelled of cherries and grass.
And we were going somewhere and our elders in the house
They didn't try to explain to us where, why, or why.
Dumplings with cherry, dumplings with cherries
In the garden, the nightingales sing as they are born.
Perhaps we were there as if we were superfluous,
We were superfluous there and not our own here,
And they don't belong here.
Beautiful city of San Francisco and I have a lot of everything,
But as here is not close to the songs of my childhood.
Dumplings with cherry, dumplings with cherries
In the garden, the nightingales sing as they are born.
Perhaps we were there as if we were superfluous,
We were superfluous there and not our own here,
And they don't belong here.
And until now, from there above and does not pass far away,
That stove has smoke and the smell of cherries, and my mother's hands are covered in flour.
Dumplings with cherry, dumplings with cherries
In the garden, the nightingales sing as they are born.
Perhaps we were there as if we were superfluous,
We were superfluous there and not our own here,
And they don't belong here.
Dumplings with cherry, dumplings with cherries
In the garden, the nightingales sing as they are born.
Perhaps we were there as if we were superfluous,
We were superfluous there and not our own here,
And they don't belong here.