Резултати претраге страна 6

She was as pure as snow in winter

She was as pure as snow in winter.
In the filth - the sables - run on it by right.
But then her letter burns my hands -
I learn the tormenting truth ...
 
I didn't know: that humility is only a mask
And the masquerade ends now, -
Yes, this time I endured a fiasco -
Hoping, that was the last time.
 
I thought: My days are counted,
That bad blood had entered my veins, -
I crushed the letter like the head of a snake -
And through my fingers trickled the poison of unfaithfulness.
 
I won't know about suffering and agony, -
The oncoming wind will wipe away my tears,
Insult will not catch up with my horses,
The blizzard will not cover my tracks.
 
Hence, I leave behind me,
Under this gray unsightly sky,
The odour of violets, the nakedness of carnations
And tears in a jumble with thawing snow.
 
Moscow don't believe neither tears nor a drop of tear,
I don't intend sobbing any more, -
I hurry towards new duels -
And, like always, intend to win!
 

Steam-bath in black

Collect!
Agreed, collect your unreasonable thoughts!
Heat!
Abgreed, heat the steam-bath in black!
Wail!
Anyhow, you'll ruin me, but wail! ...
Heat.
Only the steam-bath for me, how you like, heat it.
 
Alas, today I shall clean myself,
Alas, accustom!
But I doubt,
that I'll clean myself! ...
 
Don't sleep!
Where is the shirt that reaches to the belt?
Heat!
Oh, today I shall wash it till it is white!
Sprinkle!
Sprinkle the sooty walls in the steam-bath.
Heat,
Listen? Heat the steam bath black for me!
 
Alas, today I shall clean myself,
Alas, accustom!
But I doubt,
That I'll clean myself! ...
 
Shout!
Hunted into the corner by drink like an elk by a hound.
Be silent, -
My hangover is long over!
Endure! -
You have betrayed me out of stupidity!
Heat,
So that I were as clean as a puppy at the end of day.
 
Alas, today I shall clean myself,
Alas, accustom!
But I doubt,
That I'll clean myself! ...
 
Buy!
At least one of the guardians buy.
Heat!
Listen! Heat the steam-bath for me early!
Wail.
Anyhow, you'll ruin me, but wail.
Heat.
Only the steam-bath for me, how you like, heat it.
 
Alas, today I shall clean myself,
Alas, accustom!
But I doubt,
That I'll clean myself!
 

Chopkinson's lullaby

Sleep my child! My baby, bye-bye!
Accumulate much strength!
Do you want to sleep? Rest,
Keep smiling - and sleep!
 
The lullaby softens
The strange racket.
May you dream in your sleep,
That the whole world is asleep.
 
The world is below and you are above it
In the sweet sleep you float:
There is Moscow, the ancient Rome
And the nightly Paris.
 
And with you in unison
The voices sing, -
Indeed, it's only a dream,
But sleeping - you are growing.
 
Maybe, everything maybe:
You'll some time
In reality recapitulate
This path.
 
You'll fly over the earth
Above roofs and treetops, -
Until now you're sleeping deeply -
Look your dream to the end.
 

Marinka, listen, dear Marinka ...

Marinka, listen, dear Marinka,
You, the most near to me and my better half, -
If however torn apart, then - one to hundred -
A second won't achieve that.
 
Marinka, listen, dear Marinka,
You are lovely like a picture of a kid
Who will now answer - what will be then?
You, only you, you can - and nodody else!
 
Marinka, listen, dear Marinka,
Far away like a fairy-tale from Meterlinka
You are my blue bird afar, -
Only it's a pity - they found her in the paradise!
 
Marinka, listen, dear Marinka,
Mysterious like the dwelling of the Inka,
Come with me! Let's go somewhere, -
I don't mind where to, but we'll find it.
 
The poet - and the word don't get older -
It's said: 'Russia, Leta, Lorelei', -
Russia - you and Leta, where the dreams are
But there is no Lorelei. You - that is you.
 

Throw away boredom like the peeling of a melon

Throw away boredom like the peeling of a melon,
The sky is clear and the dreams are light.
The lad had a horse and his fate
Was interesting - before the war.
 
Yes, in the war is like in the war,
And before the war is like before the war, -
Everywhere, in the whole universe.
He rode quickly on the horse
At the end of spring, at the end of spring -
The last pre-war one.
 
But the fog already captivated the dew,
Hail fell on fields and dreams, -
So that the clouds may pull away,
The lad has to be exactly there.
 
There - in the war is like in the war,
And before the war is like before the war, -
Everywhere, in the whole universe.
He rode quickly on the horse
At the end of spring, at the end of spring -
The last pre-war one.
 

But I am known here ...

But I am kown here -
They pass me by and sing,
They drink to my health
Andoksin*.
But I don't like the fame -
The whole day I lie and sleep,
When asked: 'What's the matter with you?' - I stammer:
That's how it works with a craze.
 
And I am disturbed here:
Why, they say, you are still here, -
You have been for us a status symbol
an example!
What shall I answer them? -
That I've hit myself sleeping,
That the influence comes from ouside,
The face of the chimera.
 

I live in the best of worlds ...

I live in the best of worlds -
I don't need a hut!
The earth is my bed, the sky is my shelter, -
Shivers run down my spine.
 
But I am well!
 
I live fine in the land -
In the ditch quite on the ground -
In pleasant silence.
 
The rays burn - one needs no fire-wood -
Anybody may come to me!
What a pity - they don't repair the shelter,
And in this best of worlds
It happens to rain.
 
But I am well!
 
You do not believe - then come,
Sit down and do not desire you can't overcome, -
Be careful not to wake up!
 
Everything is wonderful - verything above me, -
Praised be the lord by me!
There is still a hole in the strap,
I could ride on the horse -
Yet there is no horse.
 
But I am well!
 
All the mischiefs are gossip.
I let the strings sound,
Sing one after another for three days -
Listen to me!
 

I loved women ...

I loved women and daring pranks.
There wasn't a day without a new one, -
There were personal stories
About my love affairs.
 
And once on the way somehow
Beside the sea - that's no joke,
I met one of the many
On my way with women.
 
And she was of a grand nature,
And she had - an outspoken soul,
And she had -an execellent figure, -
And in my pocket not a penny.
 
But for her one needs to present a ring,
Splendid wines, perfumes of the best, -
And instead of some pleasure
She did me a questionable favour.
 
I am, - she said, - Vasya,
Devoted to you!
I said: For hundred rubles allright, -
If more - I shall share with a friend!
 
Women are like purple horses:
They begin to gasp, kick over the traces!
Maybe, I didn't understand everything,
But she left offended.
 
After a month has flown in excitement
After a month she returned again.
I had such a perception
That she had agreed with the offering.
 

The lads told me

The lads told me about a c o u p !
On the periphery, where there are no laterns yet,
If successful - I am well provided for long, -
Provided for myself and the best friends.
 
But at twelve o'clock people want to sleep
The next day they get up to work, -
I don't want to disturb them - I don't go stealing, -
I don't desire interrupting their sleeps!
 
The lads told me, that an artist is living there,
That she has diamonds, golden things, dough, -
And that everything will be quiet, without the least of risks, -
Now afterwards, of course, we shall scram at running space.
 
But at twelve o'clock people want to sleep,
But the artist gets up to work, -
I don't want to disturb her - I don't go stealing,
I don't desire interrupting her sleep!
 
Friend Mishka told me, that she has a savings account, -
That cannot be possible, not possible - our artist is not rich!
'But with her is a lieutenant colonel, he is indeed her lover!'
With this argument Mishka, the rascal, convinced me.
 
And at twelve o'clock people want to sleep -
The next morning they get up to work ...
It doen't matter, not to sleep! - I go - myself, I am not happy:
I don't desire interrupting their sleeps!
 
I told the lads that she is not rich:
The diamonds are imitations, the lieutenant colonel ran away.
Now this artist - of almost threehundred years, -
I shall not forgive myself my whole life that I disturbed her sleep!
 
Yet at twelve o'clock people want to sleep -
They get up the next day to work,
I don't want to disturb them - I don't go stealing,
I don't desire interrupting their sleeps!
 

My friend has left vor Magadan

My friend has left for Magadan -
Hats off, hats off!
He drove himself, he drove himself -
Not by a transport, not by a transport.
 
Not because he was down on his luck-
Not to defy someone,
Not because of the gossip: His being a crank, -
But just so. But just so.
 
Maybe someone said: 'To no purpose!
How can one decide thus - loose everything
Where there are nothing but camps,
And in them are murderers and in them are murderers ...'
 
He answered: 'Don't believe the gossip -
There are no more than in Moscow!'
Then packs a suitcase
And - to Magadan! And - to Magadan!
 
Not because of me - not the years, -
I could jump in the night out of an electric train
But I don't go to Magadan,
Forgetting habits, closing quotation marks.
 
I shall sing to the sound of the chords
About what he is going to see,
About what I haven't seen in life, -
About Magadan. About Magadan.
 
My friend went by himself -
He has enough, he has enough, -
He won't be beaten in the convoy -
He goes voluntarily, he goes voluntarily.
 
I honour my godgiven fate ...
And perhaps - to Magadan too?
Drive together with the friend -
Und lie at the bottom! ...
 

That's how it is

That's how it is -
Like in old times, like in old times:
If one opposed -
Onto the lantern, onto the lantern,
If someone stole -
That means cell, that means cell,
If one knew much -
One was shot, one was shot!
 
I thought at last I shall soon not see
Enclosures, enclosures, -
But I got into this dusty, turbulent town
Without people, without people.
Crowds of people scurring along, people unlike,
Indifferent, blind, -
I looked at the gloomy faces of passers-by -
Neither natives nor foreigners.
 
Why curse one's bitter fate?
Oviously in vain, obviously in vain,
Why have I struggled for freedom so long?
In the enclosures, in the enclosures?
Crowds of people scurry along, people unlike,
Indifferent, blind, -
I looked at the gloomy faces of passers-by -
Neither natives, nor foreigners.
 
That's how it is -
Like in old times, like in old times:
If one opposed -
Onto the lantern, onto the lantern,
If one stole -
That means cell, that means cell,
If one knew much -
One was shot, one was shot!
 

A Song about a White Elephant

From ancient olden times in India lived
Wild huge grey elephants.
The elephants elephanted in the jungle without a path
One of them was white for some reason.
 
With kind eyes, a quiet disposition, he was different,
With his mind and noble suit.
Among his grey fellows, the white elephant
Was certainly a white crow.
 
And the lord of India, there were times,
Gave me an elephant out of respect.
'Why do I need an elephant?' I asked the foreigner,
And he said 'The elephant has a big heart.'
 
The elephant performed a curtsy, and I in my turn bowed
My speech was not evil and quiet.
Because exactly this white elephant
Was also a white female elephant.
 
I looked great sitting on the elephant
I went around India, a fairy-tale country,
Oh, where didn't we roam together
In distress got along perfectly.
 
And sometimes as we went to sing under someone's balcony,
The ladies all jumped out of the bedrooms.
I must tell you, that this white elephant,
Was extraordinarily musical.
 
The map of the world I'm sure you've seen,
You know that in India too there is a river.
My elephant and I drank mango juice
And somehow got lost in the wilds of the Ganges.
 
I rushed to the river, forgetting food and sleep ,
Irretrievably ruined my health.
And then they told me 'Your white elephant
Met a white elephant herd.'
 
I was offended for a long time, and then there you have it,
The ruler of India sent me an elephant again.
In the form of an ornament for a cane,
A white elephant, but made of ivory.
 
It is said that having seven elephants is good from,
On the shelf as a means against something bad.
It's better to let the white elephant stroll in a white herd,
It's better if he does not bring good luck.
 

Bodaibo

You have left for a short time,
God beware - that we meet again, -
But I have a freight-train - to the east,
And a mine in Bodaibo.
 
You are not going to cry and not going to wait,
You are not going to visit my relatives, -
Now I spit on it - I shall be hauling here
Gold for the country.
 
Everything is ending: Ceased have the noises of the wheels,
The sleepers are ending, the rails not ...
Alas, it´s now to wail for woe! It's a pity there are no tears
The tears endet after seven years.
 
Don't await me, agreed, god be with you, -
And if it's difficult for me - don't be sorry.
Just remember - god beware you that
Our paths crossing again!
 
The stretch of time has ended - I'll endure
And I'm given freedom anyway, -
But until then I shall sleep on the plank-bed in the zone, -
I shall endeavour to forget everything.
 
There the woods all around bend in the wind,
The blueness all around - what not to do!
Behind - seventhousand kilometres,
Ahead - seven years of blueness...
 

After all, it´s really mean

After all, it´s really mean to become entangled, -
And the comrade betrayed, the rascal, and told everything:
Of things long passed, about the row - he told everything to Sashka, -
And to two in blue, to two in plain-cloth, the black crow ...
 
Good-bye, Tanya, and maybe - so long!
Good-bye, Tanya, if you are able - don´t be angry!
But all is so mean, that without further ado
Strike out of life a full precious quarter!
 
At court the judge said: 'Twenty-five! Till I see you!'
At former times I should have wrung ons´s neck for such a speech!
And now - I endure the offence, I don´t show, -
If I meet Sashka - oh, how shall I beat him to a cripple!
 
Good-bye, Tanya, and maybe - so long!
Good- bye, Tanya, if you are able - don´t be angry!
But all is so mean, that without further adlo
Strike out of life a full precious quarter!
 

The song about the first rows

There was a time- I rushed in to the first row,
And this is all from misunderstanding,-
But for some time now I'm sitting at the back:
There, upfront, like a machine gun stuck in to your neck,-
Hard look, unkind breathing.
 
And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But- much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also- reliability and overview.
 
The eyes barrels- up to ten-
Like the muzzles on he target, but the one that's live,-
I can not save back of my head from gazes,
And from behind, it's so easy to inflict
Insult or wound with a knife.
 
And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But- much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also- reliability and overview.
 
The first row is harmful for me, and they say-
From those thoughts I'm setting myself for a bad fall.
It's better- where is darker- in the last row:
From here there is no other way,
And behind the back standing wall after wall.
 
And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But- much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also- reliability and overview.
 
And even though the rivers of water away will flow,
And though the down quilts will be completely filthy,-
Till boldness, till the grey hair, till the beard
Don't end up in the first row
And don't aspire to be the prima- ballerina.
 
And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But- much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also- reliability and overview.
 
It's save at the back, but there are days-
I'm telling myself, that I will enter with a suit of hearts:
It's not worse it to be always in the shadow-
Don't stay too long in the last row,
And gradually move into the first.
 
And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But- much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also- reliability and overview.
 

The song about the rumours

How many rumours are hurting our ears!
How many gossips eating up, like a mole!
There are rumours, as though absolutely everything will be dear,-
And especially - table salt.
 
Here and there the rumours moving among the houses like flies,
And toothless old woman spreading them into our lives.
 
'Listen, did you hear? They building city underground,
They say just in case of a nuclear war'.
'Have you heard? Soon all the bathhouses will be shut down
And this information is true: shut forevermore'
 
Here and there the rumours moving among the houses like flies,
And toothless old woman spreading them into our lives.
 
' And do you know? Mamykin being sucked-
For his drunkenness, for a debauch, for lechery '.
By the way, they will arrest your neighbour, what a bastard,-
Because he looks like Beria, you'll see '.
 
Here and there the rumours moving among the houses like flies,
And toothless old woman spreading them into our lives
 
'Oh, what's going on! Yesterday they were digging a trench-
They dug out two cognac streams!'
They say, the spies poisoned the water with moonshine,
Well, and bread now from fish scales it seams'.
 
Here and there the rumours moving among the houses like flies,
And toothless old woman spreading them into our lives.
 
And they sing to each other, whether in whisper or in scream,-
A bad roumor always coming out from the lips of hysterical woman!
And to good rumours people are not used to them,
They say, that it is fiction and nonsense, man!.
 
Here and there the rumours moving among the houses like flies,
And toothless old woman spreading them into our lives.
 
Hardened in many debacles,
Rumours are expanding, not knowing the barriers:
The gossips are about, that there will be no more rumours absolutely,
There are rumours, that gossip will be forbidden!
 
Here and there the rumours moving among the houses like flies,
And toothless old woman spreading them into our lives .
 

Ballad About Love

Versions: #2
When waters of a flood that swept the planet
Returned once more into the ocean bed
From foam of a departing ocean current
Love climbed so quietly upon the land
And disappeared in air before its time -
And for it there are sixteen hundred times.
 
And some strange people - there are some such yet -
Inhale this mix with full chest that is heaving
Reward and punishment they don't await
And thinking that they are only but breathing
They do appear to breathe, or so it's seeming,
Unevenly, unevenly, at that.
 
Only sense, just like a river boat,
For so long, so long remains afloat,
For before I know that 'I love' -
That is, that I breathe, or that I live!
 
And there will be enough wanderings and travels
Land of love - such a great land it is!
And it will be asking for ordeals
From its knights, before they can have bliss.
It will ask departures and despair
And deprive of calm, of sleep and peace...
 
But you cannot drive off the insane
From this land, they do agree to pay
Any price - their life if that is called -
Just so not to cut, to keep instead
The magical invisible thread
That is woven in between their souls....
 
The fresh air intoxicated them,
Knocked them from their feet, raised up again,
For if I had never ever loved -
I'd have never breathed, have never lived!
 
But the many that are choking on their love -
You won't reach, however you may shout...
Counted by prayer and empty word.
But this count has been mixed in blood.
And we will place candles at the head
Of ones dead from the unknown love.
 
Their voices have to morph in single one
Their souls must wander in between the flowers
To breathe with the eternity at one
To meet each other sighing in some hour
Upon the fragile bridges and roads
Upon the narrow crossroads of the world...
 
I will lay the fields for those in love,
Sleeping or awake, just let them sing!
I am breathing - therefore, I love!
I'm in love - and therefore, I live!
 

White Waltz

O what a ball! Intensity of movement, nerves and sound!
The hearts were beating in three beats and not in twain.
And ladies were inviting gentlemen
To a traditional white waltz - and took the breath away.
 
And you, that dance with sorrow together,
Decided to invite that one girl long ago -
But you must always leave to go somewhere -
To help somebody or to ready for a war.
 
And all, still closer, the more real it becomes,
She, one with whom you had intended to come in,
She comes in order to invite you to the waltz -
And in your temple blood was pounding.
 
Externally calm in a ball full of noise,
You're given away by the shadow of yours -
She tore, and broke, and trembled in blurry light, as you spun.
Held gently by the hand, and whirling her like mad,
And you could have put her across a knife's blade
So why do you stand, crossing arms, not your own and no one's?
 
It was white waltz - the end to doubts of unbelievers
And end of childhood consolations, dreams and games -
Today the ladies were inviting cavaliers
And not because the latter weren't brave.
 
The ladies are called forth in time of ball
And waltz spins heads around, like long before.
But we must always answer someone's call -
To help somebody or get ready for a war.
 
Whiter than snow is the white waltz, spin now, strive!
That snow does not get interrupted as it falls!
She came in order to invite you to a life -
And you were white - whiter than walls, whiter than waltz!
 
Wherever you were - in the lyceum, in the tavern -
In palace halls, in school - whatever luck despite -
In Russia ladies were inviting gentlemen
In every age to the white waltz, and all was white.
 
Dulling the sight, not looking to each side,
Through the despair, silence, quiet, resignation,
The women hurried to come to our aid -
Their hall - the size of the entire nation.
 
Where you will go, wherever you will fly
Recall the waltz - how you were white - and smile, you'll learn:
They'll wait forever - and from sea and from the sky -
They will invite you to white waltz when you return.
 

Cupolas

Versions: #3
How I'll see it now, how I'll breathe it in?
Air is tight before the lightning, tight and choking.
How I'll hear it all today, oh how I will sing.
From the fairy tales the prophet birds are singing.
 
The bird Sirin is happily grinning,
Having fun, calling from nests.
And against him is now despairing,
Wounds the soul the strange Alkonost.
 
Just like seven promised strings
Ring again then stop -
This is the bird Gamayun
Imparting hope!
 
In the blue sky, bleeding with belltowers,
Copper bell, copper bell,
Will be joyful or will be sore.
Russian cupolas are covered in pure gold
That the good Lord will glimpse at them more.
 
I stand, like before a timeless mystery,
Before great and fairy-tale country.
Before salty bitter sweet and sour land
Blue, spring-water, and full of rye.
 
Squelching dirt fat till the rust,
Horses go down till stirrup,
But they pull me with sleepy great power
That has soured and bloated from sleep.
 
And the seven wealthy moons
Interfere with my step.
It is the bird Gamayun
Imparting hope!
 
The soul, beaten with losses and sorrows,
The soul, tattered with horror,
If till blood the cloth has been worn,
I will gild with the golden glitter
That the good Lord will glimpse at it more.
 

They're Eight Now, We Are Two (S)

They’re eight now, we are two. The furball1layout’s
Not ours, let it be - we’re game!
Serjozha! Hold on, we’ve no chance shining on us
But aces have yet to come square
 
I won’t be a dot1 in this grid square of heaven
And numbers don’t count for me
Today my true friend is my wingman1 up here
This makes all chances agree
 
Check six,1 there’s 'a Messer',1 at last, it caught fire
The props blades wailed their due
They never will need any crosses at graveyards
The crosses on these wings will do!
 
“Alert, this is One here. For bandits 1 check belly 1
I’ve come up to cut them off track
Quench fire and hawk in the clouds!1 I’ll tail you!
No miracles happen in battle!'
 
Serguey, you’re on fire! Pray, man, or set hopes
At this point on hitting the silk 1
Too late now, ahead is 'a Messer' for my soul
Adios,1 I will meet it at twelve 1
 
I know that others will make it all square
And gliding on clouds as one
Our souls will take off like two fighter jet planes
As they can be never split up
 
The Archangel tells us: 'You’ll sit tight in heaven!'
But after the gates go click
We’ll ask God a favour “Enroll us together
In angels’ air regiment here”
 
And I will implore Father, Son and the Spirit
To kindly fulfil what I ask
Let my friend forever be my wingman in here
Just like in the combat of last
 
We’ll ask God for arrows and wings for us both
They need here an angel ace
And if they don’t want any fighters for God
They might make us guardians as well
 
To gard, after all, is a noble endeavour
While wafting good luck on the wing
To those like we were, me and Serjozha
On earh and in the air.
 
To those like we were, me and Serjozha
On earh and in the air.
 

He Was Shot Down in the Fighting

Versions: #3
All goes wrong, although nothing has changed here of late.
Air and water, the sky and the lighting -
They’re just like they were always, but there’s no my mate -
He was shot down in yesterday’s fighting.
 
Now it’s of no account, who was wrong, who was right
In our arguments that went on nightly.
What this lad was for me, I saw but the last night,
After he was shot down in the fighting.
 
He’d be awkwardly silent, he sang out of tune,
And just smiled when I said something biting,
He’d prevent me from sleeping, he sat by the moon,
And was shot down in yesterday’s fighting.
 
I don’t talk of the emptiness—we knocked about
In all kinds of time—dull and exciting.
It felt as if my fire by the wind was put out
When they downed him in yesterday’s fighting.
 
Spring is here, at long last, royal blue is the sky.
I called out, without thinking, most likely,
“Buddy, leave me the butt!”—but there was no reply,
He was shot down in yesterday’s fighting.
 
There was plenty of room for us in the dugout,
Time for us ran coequally and lightly.
Now I own all alone, but I’ve started to doubt:
Wasn’t it me who was downed in the fighting?
 

I believe in our common star...

I believe in our common star, the brightest one,
Though, for awhile we didn't follow it,-
We still were left unharmed-
While our train was derailing at full speed.
 
The tipper smashed front on our car,
But we knew, what we're looking for, we'll find,
And we're not once end up in the coffin so far,
Where there are no hope to all who end up dying.
 
Disasters, falls,- but in between-
We were taking off there, where warm nights and days,
You simply didn't loose the hope,
And me-I was very lucky with the faith.
 
Even now, when both of us fly,
Though, not on the safest planes,-
They create intimacy for us, by switching off the light,
Even the engine sing for us in low notes our names.
 
There were 'TU' and 'ILs', 'AN',-
I believed, that in Barnaul, in Paris-
We will board the plane, and if we crash in to the ocean-
Both of us even the blue shark couldn't eat!
 
All of us are mortal- and people are laughing around:
You won't be seeing your city's at all!
But I knew: everyone will be smashed on the ground,
You and I- no way in the world!
 
It seems to me, I can handle so much, if I try-
That mere mortal don't have such a strength and dexterity:
That I can catch you on the fly-
And we together will glide to Tahiti.
 
And if we'll fall ill, any of us
With some deadly sickness, so be it.
Even with the sparks from our eyes,- it will pass,
Even with groans and hangover vomit.
 
Let in the area of Mason-Lafitte
Will fall ill fated ' Skylab'
And fate will deceive everyone- finita,-
It couldn't deceive us!
 

Suicide attempt

Stitched starchy under collar with a vigour
And grey tunic tightly buttoned to the end-
And here they are lying on the trigger
The bloodless phalanges of the officer's hand.
 
It's time! Who knows if the time is right?
But here it is, truly near:
Oh, how short the gesture from the holster on the side
To the clean shaven temple by the ear!
 
The movement stopped, and blown off
From designated target tiny hair-
On accurately shaven temple
With a smile Death from the muzzle stared.
 
A raised brow could be seen from the side,
And near, something was beating and trembling-
In the temple, not yet spilled blood
Was pulsating, namely objecting.
 
And before it dared to rush in a single breath
From the ear in to the brain, across towards the nape,-
Suddenly stared intently vigilant Death
On pitiful and frenzied vein...
 
Death was too slow and miscalculated:
Now go back to the holster and lie down!
That's how Death for the first time saw closeby
From birth hated Life
 

Along the river of life an honest Greek swam

Along the river of life an honest Greek swam,
And drowned, or maybe a cancer has caught up with him.
The Greek was involved in dobbing a man-
And the Greek than, really got in to the drink.
 
He has the roots of kindness, this sod-
That's why he began to delate,-
'To snitch' - ordinarily used word.
And at the same time it means- 'betray'.
 
Or there is another similar example:
Because of his origin he took off on and on,-
He started from the deep, from people,
And didn't really want to return.
 
He swallowed reproaches and yawned from boredom,
He new, that from the people he did separate,-
But 'separate' - It's scientific lexicon,
And using our jargon it's'run away'.
 

Could it be that we are locked up in a vicious circle...

Could it be that we are locked up in a vicious circle?
Could it be that only miracle will save me?
On this day everything was falling down from my hands
And plates were braking and not for luck.
 
But please, don't go away
Forever,-try to come back!
Careful: don't bring together the glasses so sharply,-
They might brake!
 
It's dawning! It became clear: on the dew you will go away,-
I do see, that you can not do otherwise,
It's always, that only at the end of long rails and highway
Birds of fortune build their nests.
 
But please, don't go away
Forever,-try to come back!
Careful: don't bring together the glasses so sharply,-
They might brake!
 
I won't burn the ships, and the bridges won't burn,-
If only I could gain some patience!
But... I would like it here, and not over there
lived your inspiration.
 
But please, don't go away
Forever,-try to come back!
Careful: don't bring together the glasses so sharply,-
They might brake!
 

We will save the boy...

We won't leave the boy alone,
We'll send the boy to the children's home
To raise him good!
Free education,
Free drinks,
Free food!..
 
Life is like the water,
I've always carried on
My life without a care,-
Everything is bullshit,
Except for the court
It's full of terror.
 
You'll receive everything,
They'll sing for you everything-
Be diligent,-
And as a benefit-
You'll get caresses as a gift
Tender, as they can be.
 
I've always carried on
My life without working hard-
Life without a care,-
Everything is bullshit,
Except for the court
It's full of terror.
 

A HALO Jump

Versions: #1
It’s good that the engines were blocking off sounds,
That I was alone with my worries and shame.
Forgetting my biner, completely dumfound,
I stood by the exit door frame.
 
My instructor did help, with a knee to my end,
To get over this sheepishness stunt.
I confused his half-sleepy cussing and rant
For our common “Fear nothing!” command.
 
And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And left my cheekbones burning
With iciness of shaving blades:
The rising air currents.
They pumped all sounds back in me
With every breath recurring:
These easy-going, always free,
The rising air currents.
 
I was caught in their skillful and grippy embrace:
They now push me with ease any way that they want!
I am eager to do every step of this dance,
Every one of their senseless stunts.
 
If there is a deep meaning to fall from the planes,
I will learn later on, and for now…
The horizon is leaning towards my own face,
And the clouds rush away to the ground.
 
And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And left my cheekbones scalded
With iciness of shaving blades:
The rising air currents.
The pumped my liver full with blood:
Invisible, yet certain,
Inflexible and cruelsome,
The rising air currents.
 
But I ripped off a ring from the harness with force,
Like a pin in the battle or a shirt in the heat.
It was an accidental, impromptu free fall,
That has lasted just eighteen heartbeats.
 
... And today I look ugly, with humps on both sides,
With salvation of silk in each of the humps,
I am goal oriented and I am in love
With the high-altitude, low-opening jumps!
 
And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And leave my cheekbones burning
With iciness of shaving blades:
The rising air currents.
They’re piercing deep inside of me
With every breath recurring:
These easy-going, always free,
The rising air currents.
 
The pioneering jump from the stratosphere’s shallows:
On the signal “Let’s go!” I stepped off to the side,
On the quest to gain on the invisible shadows
Of the faceless chimera – I dive!
 
I will cut through the dark of the cotton wool sea,
Even if the conditions are spoiled.
The free falling is not unreservedly free,
All because we don’t fall in the void.
 
And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And leave my cheekbones burning
With iciness of shaving blades:
The rising air currents.
I have containers on my back
To meet them well in person:
Impeccable and shooting straight,
The rising air currents.
 
Yet the wind would leak through, its soft talk is indecent:
“Leave this ring where it is, revelation will come…”
At the three hundred meters – Enough of this whisper!
Wind is lying, it’s spinning a yarn!
 
Lines are yanking me up, and the canopy bangs,
As if nothing had happened en route.
There’s no freedom in falling from heights, but instead
There’s a freedom to open your chute!
 
My cheekbones skin feels cool tonight,
My eyes are pried wide open.
They carry much about mankind:
The moving air currents!
I’m starring up with fondness
On distant stars that lonely,
I’m drinking horizontal
And slow-moving currents.
 

'It so happened- the man have left us...'

It so happened- the man have left us,
Left their crops before the time of harvest,-
So they are no longer visible through the windows-
Disappeared in the road dust.
 
From the ear the grain is flowing-
It's the tears of unharvested fields,
And nimbly unpleasant cold winds
From the cracks are blowing.
 
We are waiting for you- the horses, hurry them on!
Good luck, good luck, good luck, good luck!
Let the fair winds do not hit, but caressing your backs when you ride
And then quickly return:
For the willows are crying for you,
And without your smiles, rowan berry become pale and dry.
 
We are living in those high towers-
Nobody can enter those buildings:
Expectation and loneliness
Instead of you settled down in houses.
 
Lost its freshness and charm
Whiteness of never worn shirts,
And the old songs so boring become
And got stuck in our teeth.
 
We are waiting for you- the horses, hurry them on!
Good luck, good luck, good luck, good luck!
Let the fair winds do not hit, but caressing your backs when you ride
And then quickly return:
For the willows are crying for you,
And without your smiles, rowan berry become pale and dry.
 
All is hurting with one single pain,
And sounds unceasingly with every day
Eternal anguish of lamentations
With echoes of ancient pray.
 
We will welcome you, if you're on foot , and on horses,
Tired, broken- whatever your losses,-
Only not the death notice emptiness,
Nor premonition of them!
 
We are waiting for you- the horses, hurry them on!
Good luck, good luck, good luck, good luck!
Let the fair winds do not hit, but caressing your backs when you ride
And then quickly return:
For the willows are crying for you,
And without your smiles, rowan berry become pale and dry.
 

'For a long time the volleys of the guns fell silent'

The volleys of guns falls silent,
Above us is only sunlight, -
On what are people tested,
If the war is no more?
 
You hear quite often
Now, as then:
'Would you go with him on a reconnaissance?'
No or yes?'
 
Do not gasp, the armor is not piercing already,
And the death notification is not found under the door,
And it seems as if everything is calm,
Nowhere opens now ...
 
But all the same we hear quite often
Now, as then:
'Would you go with him on a reconnaissance?'
No or yes?'
 
I know the quiet there is only a dream, -
Prepare, hold on and fight! -
There is a peaceful front line -
Trouble, and danger, and risk.
 
Therefore we hear quite often
Now, as then:
'Would you go with him on a reconnaissance?'
No or yes?'
 
In the fields mines are rendered harmless,
But we are not on a field of flowers, -
You are the quest, the stars, the depths
And we do not consider the costs anymore.
 
Therefore we hear quite often,
If trouble comes:
'Would you go with him on a reconnaissance?'
No or yes?
 

'I'm daydreaming or having nightmare...'

I'm daydreaming or having nightmare in bed,
How the ships are sailing away...
Only mine I don't see in the road stead-
Or they simply forget, I would say?
 
Or they leaving for those foreign lands
Only in order to slip away, then,-
Coming back in to our novels,
So they can forget for a moment,
 
In order to get off from that chained bed of no use-
To listen to wind in the woodland,
In order to screw all this long distant cruise-
In Odessa turn up again...
 
Do listen, you! Well, who are we judging
And why are we keep singing on?
Do you know, these sad people, I mean
They will croak, and we simply burn!
 

On the Chase (Dark Eyes)

In a drunken haze,
Down the forest way,
Still not tired, I stayed,
To my health I sang.
I knew how to sing
Songs not great or wise,
'How I loved you so,
These darkest of eyes.'
 
First they slacked, then they dashed, then trotted at pace,
And some old horse flicked swampy slime in my face.
Only I will swallow it - the dirt, down with my spit,
Bottle open, I'll twist, and again I'll draw them in:
 
'These darkest of eyes!
How I loved you so...'
I stopped, saving some
For the future, though.
And I shook my head,
Let my fancy fly,
Looked back, then ahead -
Whistled until I...
 
Wall of forest ahead - it won't let me pass,
The horses' ears prick, they start to back up.
Where's a clearing, or glade - can't make out no grass!
Prickles stab at me, reaching up to the shrubs.
 
You're my blood brother,
Just give me a hand!
Where you going, my boy -
Why you heading back?!
Poison rain on branches
Stinks of evil deeds.
And a wolf flashes
Underneath my steed.
 
Oh, you drunken fool! You've gone way too hard!
Death's come, after all, don't know how to run -
Came and took an ace from my pack of cards,
That one ace you need, or else death comes!
 
I scream at the wolves:
'May you rot in hell!...'
And the horses' hooves
Shake with fear as well.
Then I rustle my whip -
Beat and turn it high,
And scream, as I grip:
'These darkest of eyes!'
 
Snorting, trampling, clanking, a wild dance -
Bells are jingling a tune out to me.
Oh, my horses, it's me who'll ruin you at last -
Hold out, my friends, hold out, enemies!
 
...Even drunkenness,
On the chase, dried up.
On a mountain ridge,
We are lined right up,
Us, in clouds of foam,
Jets poured on the hills,
Got our breath, and croaked,
Cleared our throats, then, still...
 
My forgotten horses, never letting me down,
I bowed to their hooves, right on the ground,
Threw my things out the cart, led the horses after me,
May God bless you, my horses, I got out in one piece!
 

If Only Vodka Was Just For One Man

If only vodka was just for one man,
How fantastic, one alone!
But drinking's always just for a three,
But smoking's always just for two, see,
What is for just one man?
For one man - a cradle and a gravestone.
 
From morning, and 'til morning,
They'd always sing songs loud,
On our block, but, vanishing,
Everyone just moved out
All directions, running
For long years, long-lasting.
 
And they say, that a wife is for one man,
Always been like that, you know.
But there has been a wife for two, see,
But there has been a wife for a three,
What is just for one man?
For one man - a cradle and a gravestone.
 
From morning, and 'til morning,
They'd always sing songs loud,
On our block, but, vanishing,
Everyone just moved out
All directions, running
For long years, long-lasting.
 
How many kids live in this here building,
How many kids in the one next door!
How many of my criminal songs sing,
How many still behind locked doors
All directions, running
For long years, long-lasting.