Текст песни Станислав Еленский - стихи Иосифа Бродского

Elegy

Dear friend, the tavern is still the same.
All the same stuff emblazoned on the walls,
all the same price. It is better if the wine?
I do not think; neither better nor worse.
Progress not. And well, what does not.

The pilot of the mail line, one,
as a fallen angel, suppresses vodka. Violins
even by force of habit concern
my imagination. In the window
looming white as virginity, roofs,
and the bell is buzzing. It's dark.

Why are you lying? And why my ears
no longer distinguish truth from falsehood,
and it requires some new words
unknown to you - deaf, alien,
but able to be uttered,
as before, only your voice.

***
Having managed to dissociate itself from the people,
I want to dissociate itself from itself.
Do not fence of hewn poles
and the mirror will be more useful here.
I looked around the gloomy features,
stubble, bumps on the chin ...

The lattice for divorcing couple,
perhaps the best view of the partition.
In his twilight climb in the window,
edge plowing huge starlings
and the lake - a hole in the wall,
topped fir teeth.

That look, that lake of holes
and in general - through any puddle
here climb outside world.
Or this upolzet out.