She's got not a snowstorm in her head, but winter with hurricanes
And thousands of follies hide on her cherry lips
And for him she is impossible, miraculous, strange
But he can not get her image out of his mind.
And sometimes in the night he is tired and exhausted because of his thoughts
and he looks at her photos till his eyes begin to hurt
And she reveals herself and her emotions in writing
She irons the linen and carries on the war with the filthy tile.
Chorus:
This spring, spring is invented, spring
It doesn't need a special reason
But something was messed up there, city was sleeping, and she appeared
Spring turned everything over.
And no variants... spring, spring.
He thinks fondly that he can cope with all this
That she, like many others, will spark and be forgotten soon
And she still repeats to herself that she is not a beauty
And turns the thoughts about him out along the empty quiet streets.
And meeting her, he tries hard to keep the distance
Assuring himself that this situation is not serious
And she goes with him to the station she doesn't need at all
Only to smile to him for two more minutes.
Chorus.