Музыкант

Musician playing the violin , I looked into his eyes ,
I'm not that I was curious - I was flying through the sky .
I'm not that out of boredom , I was hoping to understand
How to know how these hands such sounds

Out of some pieces of wood , from some pale veins
Of some kind of fantasy, which he served .
And in fact it is necessary for us to penetrate the soul and ignite .
And what with her ceremony , which it protected.

Happy is the house where the singing violin guides us on the path .
And gives us hope ; else - somehow.
Happy tool pressed against the angular shoulders ,
By whose blessing I 'm flying through the sky .

Happy is the one whose path is short , toes sleight ,
Musician that has made my soul from the fire.
And the soul , that's for sure , if burned ,
Justice, merciful and righteous it .