Текст песни Антон Яржомбек - Так, карандаша не выбирая

So, pencil without choosing
Strokes are meaningless.
So in the twilight smoke the edge of the barn,
Transforming past in poems.

But you have not yet become memory yet,
But you are alive in infamousism - while.
While the noise of the station is flowing in the eyes:
So inside you look from afar.

Where we are not, - it becomes not bad
Where without us, someone is good.
So at dusk drawers thistle
All night at the headboard over the soul.

And I am with the love of the Wordless Watch
I strive for the train on the bridge,
No longer on inclined, and sheer
Flowers of poems tearing on the fly.

And, probably, in the pose of ugly
So fixed at dusk stand
What saves the kerosene lamp
Moon. And it immediately seems to be south.

1993.