A on prav kak nemec v kaske

Автор: Поэт Эмо


I EHTO DOLZHEN ZNAT' KAZHDYJ



PRAV BYL S BRATOM



PUSHKIN CHUVSTVUET STRASHNO ISTOMU:

ISTOMILA EGO EGO BLYAD':

VED' PROSHLA KAK PO TOMNOMU GOMU,

I NE SMOG ON PROSTIT'-PROCHITAT'!



BYLO DELO V BYTU RAZBIRAT'SYA

U NEGO -- VED' SANGVINIK ON BYL.

VED' EMU BY OTREZALI YAJCA

ZA NEVNESHNIJ POROK OT MOGIL!



A KADYK EE OCHEN' UMEREN,

A RASSUDOK EE POMOLOZH:

"YA ZH TAK VYSPRENEN, ROBOK I SKVEREN

TOL'KO TY MENYA NE PREVZOJDESH'!"






ONA PRINIMAET PUBLIKU



YA NE TO TASHU



A NE UGADAL YA EE NARCOLOGY

NAVERNO, NARKOTIKI ONA PRINIMAET

NE NUZHNY MNE NEJTRALOCHKI

I VLADIMIRSKOGO CENTRALA YA NE ZNAYU



YA BY NE LYUBIL EHTOY DEVOCHKI

ESLI BY ZAMUZHEM ONA VLADELA

PSIXIKOJ LYOVOCHKI

I NE ISKALA MNE ORIGINALA



YA NE PLOXOJ MAL'CHIK, I LYUBOVNIK

EBYA DRUGIX, YA POSTIGAYU LYUBYASCHUYU

EE SPOZARANKU, MENYA KAK SLOVNIK

I NAMEKAYUSCHUYU NA STRAST' MOYU



U NEE UZHE EST' VKUS K MOEJ POEHZII



IMENNO OT EE ZADA



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBGleLYC0vY



http://www.stihi.ru/2017/01/28/280




The Song about Arbat

(Bulat Okudzhava)



Like a river you flow. Sweet your appellation.

No, another like you – that could never be.

O Arbat, dear Arbat, you are my vocation,

You’re my joy, and you are my catastrophe.



Your pedestrians are not people of great vision:

They are stomping their boots, happy to be free.

O Arbat, dear Arbat, you are my religion,

Your firm cobblestones are lying under me.



There’s no cure for your love, even in a century;

Forty thousand other streets one might befriend.

O Arbat, dear Arbat, you’re my mother country:

One could not if one tried walk you to the end.