Vertimas: Chris De Burgh. Storyman.
Vertimas: Chris De Burgh. Storyman temą.
: She had the grace of a dancer, pretty as the morning sun, Her days were filled with laughter, and when sixteen years had come, She went to work in
: I was an eagle but I cannot fly, I was a lion, but I run no more, I was a river, but the river's dry, And soon the spirit is coming to take me home
: Silently dawn comes in with the rain, and I feel the world is crying, The moment is here, and it's time to say goodbye; Words cannot tell of all you
: There she stood in an empty room, heard a voice from another time, And the memories came rolling back of Leningrad in the war; For the girl in the
: I can feel it in my blood, I can hear it in my footsteps, I can see it all around, that everywhere connections Are breaking away, and people know that
: And so the play begins, and though it is the final night, My heart will sing, just to be beside her now is everything, And though it's a play I believe
: Brother, there's a man at the gate, he has something in his hand; He says it fell down from the sky, should I let him in? Maybe it's an omen, maybe
: Last night I dreamed again that I was by your side, I felt your tender kiss, and with your lips on mine, My world became, complete again, Beneath the
: I have seen it, I have seen it in my father's eyes, I have seen it, I have seen it in my father's eyes, I have heard it, I have heard it in my father
There she stood in an empty room, heard a voice from another time, And the memories came rolling back of Leningrad in the war; For the girl in the photograph
I have seen it, I have seen it in my father's eyes, I have seen it, I have seen it in my father's eyes, I have heard it, I have heard it in my father
Silently dawn comes in with the rain, and I feel the world is crying, The moment is here, and it's time to say goodbye; Words cannot tell of all you
I was an eagle but I cannot fly, I was a lion, but I run no more, I was a river, but the river's dry, And soon the spirit is coming to take me home;
She had the grace of a dancer, pretty as the morning sun, Her days were filled with laughter, and when sixteen years had come, She went to work in the