Мелодия ведёт свой вечный спор

In cool halls where time is frozen, It is kept forever under a high vault. Every sound here is a divine burden., Which is given to the joy of all nations. In the glow of the Great Philharmonic chandeliers The orchestra obediently waits for a wave of the hand, To bring the masterpieces to life in many ways And wash away the doubts and clutches from the soul. Verse 2 Classical music flows like an immortal river, sonatas and fugues soar skyward. Mozart has lived through the ages diligently, And the Bach spirit is knocked down by evil blizzards. Here Tchaikovsky is crying, Chopin is pining, the Melody is having its eternal argument. And the violin gently kisses in the dark The hearts of the people who entered this forest. Verse 3 But behind the scenes is a special, rigorous job., Where they work on songs every day. The holy notes are carefully borne, Making art even more wonderful. Tuner, master, conductor, artist — They weave score fibers. Their humble work is divinely radiant., Who opened a window into the classics to the world.