Ãäå ìû îêàæåìñÿ ?
On your palm an endless wonder
Íà òâîåé ëàäîíè íå÷òî óäèâèòåëüíîå , áåñêîíå÷íîå
The lines that speak the truth without a sound
Áåççâó÷íî ãîâîðÿùèå ïðàâäó ëèíèè
And in your eyes awaits the tireless hunger
È îæèäàþùèé íåóòîìèìûé ãîëîä â òâîèõ ãëàçàõ ,
Already looks for prey to run down
Óæå âûñìàòðèâàåò äîáû÷ó äëÿ ðàçðóøåíèÿ .
So why do we keep up this charade
Èòàê, ïî÷åìó íàì ñòîèò ïðîäîëæàòü ýòîò ñïåêòàêëü ?
N’ how do we tell apart the time to leave from the time to wait
Íå òàê, êàê ìû ðàñêëàäûâàåì îòäåëüíî, âðåìÿ, ÷òîáû âñ¸ áðîñèòü îò âðåìåíè, ïîäîæäàòü.
What does tomorrow want from me
×òî æå çàâòðàøíåìó äíþ îò ìåíÿ íóæíî ?
What does it matter what I see
Ðàçâå òàê âàæíî , ÷òî ÿ óâèæó ?
If it can’t be my design
Åñëè ýòî íå ìîæåò áûòü ìîåé öåëüþ
Tell me where do we draw the line
Ñêàæè ìíå , ãäå ìû îêàæåìñÿ ?
Tell me where do we draw the line
Ñêàæè ìíå , ãäå ìû îêàæåìñÿ ?
The dance of flames and shadows in the street
Òàíåö îãíÿ è óëè÷íûå òåíè ,
Make poetry nobody’s ever heard
Ïîýòè÷íî ñîòâîðèòü òî , ÷òî íèêòî íå ñëûøàë
The weight of loneliness stands on your feet
Óñòîÿòü íà íîãàõ ñ áðåìåíåì îäèíî÷åñòâà ,
The cage already there around the bird
Òàì ïòèöà óæå â êëåòêå .
So why don’t we join the masquerade
Òàê ïî÷åìó áû íàì íå ïðèñîåäèíèòüñÿ ê ìàñêàðàäó
Before it falls apart, before our love becomes insatiate
Äî òîãî, êàê îí ðàñïàä¸òñÿ, ïðåæäå, ÷åì íàøà ëþáîâü ñòàíåò íåíàñûòíîé .
What does tomorrow want from me
×òî æå çàâòðàøíåìó äíþ îò ìåíÿ íóæíî ?
What does it matter what I see
Ðàçâå òàê âàæíî , ÷òî ÿ óâèæó ?
If I can’t choose my own design
Åñëè ÿ íå ìîãó âûáðàòü ñâîþ ñîáñòâåííóþ öåëü
Tell me where do we draw the line
Ñêàæè ìíå , ãäå ìû îêàæåìñÿ ?
What does tomorrow want from me
×òî æå çàâòðàøíåìó äíþ îò ìåíÿ íóæíî ?
What does it matter what I see
Ðàçâå òàê âàæíî , ÷òî ÿ óâèæó ?
If we all walk behind the blind
Åñëè âñå ìû èä¸ì çà ñëåïûìè .
Tell me where do we draw the line
Ñêàæè ìíå , ãäå ìû îêàæåìñÿ ?
Tell me where do we draw the line
Ñêàæè ìíå , ãäå ìû îêàæåìñÿ ?
Where’s the cooling wind
Ãäå îõëàæäàþùèé âåòåð
Where’s the evergreen field
Ãäå âå÷íîçåë¸íûé ëóã
Where’s my mother’s open arms
Ãäå îáúÿòüÿ ìîåé ìàòåðè
Where’s my father lionheart
Ãäå ìîé îòâàæíûé îòåö
S’like the sun’s gone down
Ýòî ïîõîæå íà çàêàò ñîëíöà ,
Sleeps in the hallowed ground now
Ñïèò ñåé÷àñ â ñâÿùåííîé çåìëå
With the autumn’s browns leaves
Ñ óâÿäøèìè îñåííèìè ëèñòüÿìè ,
With the one who never grieves
Ñ òåì , êòî íèêîãäà íå îãîð÷àåòñÿ .
So why do we keep up this charade
Èòàê, ïî÷åìó íàì ñòîèò ïðîäîëæàòü ýòîò ñïåêòàêëü ?
N’ how do we tell apart the time to leave from the time to wait
Íå òàê ,êàê ìû ðàñêëàäûâàåì îòäåëüíî,âðåìÿ ,÷òîáû âñ¸ áðîñèòü, îò âðåìåíè , ïîäîæäàòü .
What does tomorrow want from me
×òî æå çàâòðàøíåìó äíþ îò ìåíÿ íóæíî ?
What does it matter what I see
Ðàçâå òàê âàæíî , ÷òî ÿ óâèæó ?
If it can’t be my design
Åñëè ýòî íå ìîæåò áûòü ìîåé öåëüþ
Tell me where do we draw the line
Ñêàæè ìíå , ãäå ìû îêàæåìñÿ ?
Whatever tomorrow wants from me
Íåçàâèñèìî îò òîãî , ÷òî íóæíî îò ìåíÿ çàâòðàøíåìó äíþ
At least I’m here, at least I’m free
 êîíöå êîíöîâ , ÿ çäåñü è ÿ ñâîáîäåí
Free to choose to see the signs
Âîçìîæíîñòü âèäåòü è âûáèðàòü çíàêè
This is my line
Ýòî ìîÿ çàäà÷à , ìî¸ íàïðàâëåíèå .
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