Текст песни Madonna On the Curb (Jonatha Brooke) с переводом

On the curb of a city pavement, by the ash and garbage cans

In the stench of rolling thunder of motor trucks and vans

There sits a little lady with brave but troubled eyes

And in her arms a baby that cries and cries and cries

She cannot be more than three, but the years go fast in the slums

And hard on the pangs of winter’s cold, the pitiless summer comes

The wails of sickly children she knows, she understands

The pangs of puny bodies, the clutch of small hot hands

The deadly blaze of August that turns men faint and mad

She quiets the peevish urchins by telling of dreams she had

Of heaven with its marble stairs, and ice and singing fans

And God in white, so friendly there, just like the drug store man

On the curb of a city pavement by the ash and garbage cans

In the stench of rolling thunder of motor trucks and vans

There sits a little lady with brave but troubled eyes

And in her arms a baby that cries and cries and cries

So when you’re giving millions to Belgian Pole, and Serb

Remember my beautiful lady, Madonna on the curb

Перевод песни Madonna On the Curb