Lian Ross - Perfect Smile versuri traducere

Night Train

So I got one way ticket now
hesitating a little longer
then getting on just like that
The night today turned yesterday
After forcibly adding another day
like my heavier heart
the night doesn't go as I want
I ended up taking the train
 

Which path should we take
Absolutely no one knew
Your figure only grew distant
as I watched
I guess I have to follow the flow
What can I even do
Believe tomorrow will be different
like yesterday
 

You tell me
Go without looking back
Just look forward and keep going
faster, a little faster
Ain't nobody stop this train
Why does saying there's no going back
make me sad
Too far away
We've come too far away
 

Look at the people scrambling to get off
Why couldn’t I become like them
Should I just stop?
I guess I have to follow the flow
What can I even do
Should I believe that I’m different
like you said
 

You tell me
Go without looking back
Just look forward and keep going
faster, a little faster
Ain't nobody stop this train
Why does saying there's no going back
make me sad
Too far away
We've come too far away
 

You tell me
Go without looking back
Just look forward and keep going
faster, a little faster
Ain't nobody stop this train
Why does saying there's no going back
make me sad
Too far away
We've come too far away
 

Love capital

In truth – “I rage with paints!”
About herself she could have said.
I look at her gaudy notebook
And afar see Russian, big…
 

Seeking the side ridiculous,
Attempted pearls in her not to notice
And put the stamp of vulgarity on
The fragile auricle…
 

And burned with stamp ringing hearing,
And she is light, like fluff of an apple tree,
And brighter in colorfulness than Malyavin!
 

O, if more carefully to treat, -
In which free spirit flies in height,
And how glorious was her bacchanal poem!
 

Shulgin

In him is something fantastic: in him
Is artist, patriot, hero and lyric,
Anthem to tsarism and freedom of panegyric,
And, careful, he jokes with flame…
 

He’s at the wheel – we’ll sleep peacefully.
He on the scale of Russian is the weight,
In which there is nobility.
In books he said indisputable with new day.
 

His vocation – is difficult hunt.
From Don Juan and Don Quixote
In him there’s something. Wrongly chased
 

Is he by those contemporaries of his,
Who, not having figured out in darkness,
To other people has hate.
 

Savva Chukalov

He chose for the poems the Russian tongue,
He, whose heart like mandolin was ringing.
In Petersburg he dreamed of rose valley,
Which had gloried Kazanlyk.
 

He barely used to the north,
Born in the shade of the mountain of eagle.
Consequently, committing his long course,
He wilted more than once over his soul:
 

About chaste Finnish meadow
He remembered, about northern Svetlana, -
About the girl, warming his May, -
 

Is it not the same – from Bulgaria or Rus?
Always bright to heart are days of youth,
And in days of love dearer is alien land.