Prosti menya moya lyubov' (translation)
Zemfira
Sea Will embrace Fishers will cast their threads And catch our souls into their nets Forgive me my love Late To think of anything It's too late I feel you need air We lie in this enormous puddle Forgive me my love Jeans Gathered in water And clung I think we are caught firmly in it I think the sun went out Forgive me my love Quiet Can't hear the clock Or the gulls Humbly we turn off our hearts And you are in the sand as if in bronze Forgive me my love