The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Mara Vihar" (Maraviher) the performer of the song "Mikhail Krug"

The evening was so peaceful, the waves filled with sorrow,

A waltz played somewhere, the full moon brightly shining.

And on the shore, where it was quiet, deserted and hollow,

Sat Madame alone in the gazebo, pining.

And our Marviher, a handsome devil with luck on his side,

At that very hour admired the waves on the shore.

Seeing her necklace, ring, and clothes with a practiced eye,

He thought, "She'll be spending this evening with me, that's for sure!"

He entered the gazebo, in French, begged her pardon,

(The thief, it turned out, had pilfered in Paris with glee),

And her heart filled with a sound like a church's carillon,

That if he were to leave, she would surely die of misery.

She, meanwhile, drifted, inhaling the scent of white roses,

Gazing at the sea through her stylish Dutch lorgnette.

And he said to her, like a poet composing in proses,

That he should be on stage, Shakespearean sonnets to recite.

"We'll walk with you till sunset, there on the horizon,

From where silver clouds drift across the sky so bright."

A pearly rain then poured down on her silk parasol,

Held tight by her hand adorned with a diamond ring so bright.

The rain kept falling, but they stayed dry beneath the gazebo's roof,

In the distance, a steamboat groaned like a drunken cop.

She spoke and spoke, but he didn't hear a word, not a hoof,

He knew she was a "client" - a mark he'd just come across.

She begged and pleaded, "Escort me home, I feel unwell,

My head is spinning, this cold wind won't subside..."

But he, a seasoned pro, knew this game all too well,

This "hip" dame was no match for his criminal stride.

At the hotel entrance, amidst the doorman and staff's grand display,

No one in Odessa had seen such a handsome man.

Ladies in the foyer whispered to each other this way:

"Handsome, rich, she's clever, oh my, what a plan!"

They entered their suite, luxury at its finest, you see,

With one hand, he swiped her plump purse with ease,

With the other, he lifted her gold, oh so cleverly,

His fingers moved so fast, Paganini would be on his knees!

Moonlight streamed through the window, a ladybug landed in flight,

In the hawthorn bush, a cricket played a tune on his violin.

And her lips whispered deliriously, "My love, oh my love, hold me tight..."

While her "love" was already making off with her loot, his grin.

A year went by, and the thief was caught and sentenced to die,

They brought her to identify the criminal in the lineup that day.

He thought, "This is it, back to the slammer, I can't deny."

"Burned again," he cursed, "There goes my freedom, slipping away."

The clerk sat scribbling, a scoundrel taking his sweet time,

When she entered, pale as a ghost, leaning against the wall.

He rushed towards her, lifting her up as if back in their prime,

Shouting to the cops, "I'll confess, just don't hurt her at all!"

She, in turn, embraced his strong neck, clinging to his chest,

And whispered, "Oh mon chéri, you're too kind, it's true,

Merci for your concern, I'm caught, but I'll confess,

My apologies, gentlemen, but that thief – it's not him, it's not you!"

Был вечер так тих и волны наполнены грустью, играл где-то вальс и светила большая луна,

А на берегу, где тихо, безлюдно и пусто, сидела мадам и скучала в беседке одна.

А наш Маравихер, красавец фартового вида, как раз в этот час любовался прибрежной волною.

Увидя её ожерелье, кольцо и прикиды, подумал: "Она этот вечер пробудет со мной."

В беседку зашёл и просил по французски пардона, сгодилось вору, что в Париже шмонал косяки,

И сердце её колокольным наполнилось звоном, что ежели б ушёл он, она б умерла от тоски.

Она же плыла и всё нюхала белую розу, на море глядя через модный голландский лорнет.

И он ей сказал, как поэт, сочиняющий прозу, ему бы в театре читать за Шекспира сонет,

"Мы с вами пойдём до заката, что на горизонте, оттуда плывут серебряные облака."

Жемчужным дождём вдруг пролился на шёлковый зонтик, который сжимает нежная с перстнем рука.

И дождик пошёл, но им сухо в беседке под крышей, вдали пароход загудел, как заваленный мент.

Она говорила, а он её вовсе не слышал, он знал, что зовёт на чаёк - это клюнул клиент.

Зовёт и молит: "Проводите до дома, мне плохо, кружит голова и ветер холодный не стих..."

А хипа на кон, на хамлёжку - такая пройдоха, но вор её пас - он крутил на Твери не таких.

У входа в отель на цирлах швейцар и прислуга, никто не видал в Одессе красавца, как он.

И дамы в фойе зашептали на ушко друг другу: "Красивый, богатый, он умница, просто шер мон!"

Зашли в номера и раскладка на высшую пробу, одною рукой он шмонал её пухлый скидняк,

Другою рукой он снимал золотишко, ей-богу, так пальцы играли, что аж Паганини - слабак!

В окне лунный свет, на кровати меданка приплыла, в ракитном кусту кузнечик на скрипке играл,

И губы её шептали в бреду: "Милый, милый...", а "милый" уже на малине понты пришивал.

Прошёл где-то год, и спалили вора под Ростовом, на очной её просили вора опознать.

Он думал - кранты, по этапу на нары по новой. Спалили, волки, снова мне о свободе мечтать.

Сидел писарчук и калякал, паршивец, дознанье, она как вошла, так без чувств прижалась к стене,

Он кинулся к ней, поднял на руки, как в то свиданье, легавым сказал: "Расколюсь, только чтоб не при ней!"

Она же в ответ обняла его сильную шею, припала к груди, прошептала: "Эй мене шер мон,

Мерси за заботу, поймали, но я сожалею - увы, господа, но тот вор - это вовсе не он!"

Mikhail Krug's song "Maravikher" tells the story of a cunning and charismatic thief who, using his charm and acting skills, deceives a wealthy lady.

From the very beginning of the song, an atmosphere of romance and mystery is created: a quiet evening, a moonlit night, sad waves, a lonely lady in the gazebo. Maravikher enters this almost cinematic setting – “a handsome man of lucky appearance”, who purposefully chose his victim. He introduces himself to her as an educated and gallant foreigner, charms her with poems and theatrical manners. The lady, blinded by his beauty and sweet speeches, does not notice the deception.

The song presents a vivid contrast between luxury and falsehood, romance and crime. Maravikher, skillfully manipulating the lady's feelings, robs her while she is in a love intoxication. He is a cynical professional in his field, masterfully playing his role.

The culmination of the story is the arrest of Maravikher. However, even here he shows himself as a man of honor and nobility. During the identification, risking his own freedom, he does not betray his former victim, saving her from shame.

The song "Maravikher" is not just a crime story, it is a reflection on love, deceit, the price of freedom and unexpected manifestations of nobility in a world dominated by self-interest and crime.