Sharmanka returned, of something it's sigh.
Sharmanka returned, sobbing at night.
Erasing the smiles sharmanka is suffering.
It's sobbing with soul of the first violin.
Whether entail unbelievable dreams
Do the flowers belated will spring-
Just the same sharmanka is sobbing,
In Paris it feels itself foreign ( x2 )
Just the same sharmanka is sobbing,
In Paris it feels itself foreign.
Just the same sharmanka of something regrets.
Just the same sharmanka is not aging, but sad.
Erasing the smiles, sharmanka is suffering.
It's sobbing with soul of the first violin.
Whether entail unbelievable dreams,
Do the flowers belated will spring-
Just the same sharmanka is sobbing,
In Paris it feels itself foreign. (x2 )
Just the same sharmanka is sobbing,
In Paris it feels itself foreign.