Текст песни Иосиф Бродский и Ян Тирсен - Бабочка

I

To say that you're dead?
But you lived only a day.
How much sadness in a joke
Creator! barely
I can say
& Quot; live & quot; - Unity of date
birthday and when you
in my handfuls
crumbled me
confused subtract
one of the two quantities
within a day.

II

Then, that the days for us -
nothing. Only
nothing. They are not prikolesh,
Eye and food
do not they
on a white background,
not having a body,
invisible. Days
they like you; rather,
that can weigh
reduced tenfold
one of these days?

III

Saying that does not
you? But what
in my hand so similar
with you? and color -
not the fruit of nothingness.
On whose tip
and so placed paint?
Hardly I
muttering lump
words that are alien color
imagine this would
could palette.

IV

On the wings of your
pupils, eyelashes -
Does beauty, birds -
whose fragments,
Tell me, is people
portrait of a volatile?
What, tell your case
particles, grains
presents still life:
things, the fruits of it?
and even fishing
trophy stretched out.

V

Maybe you - the landscape,
and, taking a magnifying glass
I found a group
nymphs, dancing, beach.
Is there light as day?
il there sadly,
at night? and shining
what it
rose in the sky?
whose figure in it?
Tell me, how nature
it was made?

VI

I think that you -
and then is:
stars, faces, objects
in your features.
Who was the jeweler,
that eyebrow frown,
paid in miniature
for them the world
that drives us crazy,
takes us in a pincer movement,
Where do you like the idea of ​​things
we - the thing itself?

VII

Tell me, why pattern
this was Duden
writing only one day
in the land of lakes,
whose amalgam in store
store space?
And you - deprives chance
such a short period of time
get into the net,
tremble in his hands,
at the time of the chase
captivate the pupil.

VIII

You did not answer me
not because
shyness and
from evil, and do not
then you're dead.
Alive, dead, whether -
but each of God's creatures
as a sign of kinship
voice for granted
Communication, singing:
extension moments,
minute of the day.

IX

And you - you are denied
this pledge.
But, speaking strictly,
it is better: to
what for to be in heaven
in debt, in the registry.
Do not crush Well, if
your age, your weight
worthy of Silence:
sound - also a burden.
Disembodied than the time
you silently.

X

Without feeling, without
before the age of fear,
you veshsya easier to dust
over the flower bed outside
Similar to prison
with its suffocation
the past with the future,
because
when you fly on a meadow
wanting to feed,
assumes the form
Suddenly the air itself.

XI

So does the pen,
gliding over the smooth surface
lined with notebooks,
not knowing about
the fate of his line,
Where is the wisdom of heresy
mixed, but the trust
shock hands,
whose fingers beating it
completely silent,
not removing dust from the flower,
but the burden from your shoulders.

XII

So beauty
and such a short period,
Connect, guess
curve mouth:
not to express more clearly,
in fact,
the world was created without a purpose,
and if it,
a purpose - not us.
Each entomologist,
for there is no light needles
and not for the darkness.

XIII

You say & quot; Bye & quot;
as a form of day?
There are people whose minds
shear zoster
oblivion; but look:
to blame
is that behind the back
they have not days
with a bed for two,
not the dense dreams,
not the past - but the clouds
your sisters!

XIV

You're better than nothing.
Verneuil you closer
and visible. Inside
all one hundred
you are related to it.
In your flight
it reached the flesh;
and therefore
you're in sutolke day
worth a look
as light barrier
between him and me.
1972