Текст песни Александр Городницкий - Песня о дороге

Is it heaven's fault or local government
From what, it is not clear, the reason
We - wherever we go - we can't get there
Not during life, not after death.

Why did you come to this world, man,
If your bread is bitter and your age is short
Between everyday affairs and hardships?
The covered steppe is endless with thorns,
No one can cross it all
Not in a day, not a month, not a year.

A handful of dust will leave dry fields
On the soles, worn out from wanderings.
Why tell us our native land
Does he accept neither the living nor the dead?

After all, the land remains the same land
The stars will become, burned out, ashes at dawn, -
Only smoke will smell.
Constantly trains go east,
And the hot sand rocks the camel
And the sky turns to the west.

And wherever we direct our steps
And we start a conversation about anything, -
Everywhere the kite above us reduces circles
And the fox sneaks along the trail.

Why did you come to this world, man,
If your bread is bitter and your age is short,
And it is given to you to do a little?
What have you gained by your overwork?
Your world is unreliable and your house is fragile -
Everything is road, road, road!

1981, Moscow