Текст песни Sorrow - пальцами по пиано

I

     On Tuesday, the beginning of September.
     The rain fell all night.
     All the birds flew away.
     Only I'm so lonely and brave
     it did not even look after them.
     Desert sky destroyed,
     rain pulls clearance.
     I do not need the South.

        II

     There, buried alive,
     I wander in the twilight stubble.
     Boots breaks my field,
     raging at me Thursday,
     but cut the stems climb up,
     almost without pain.
     And twigs of willows,
     plunging pink cape
     swamp, where the protection is removed,
     mutter, knocking down
     Shrike nest.

        III

     Knock and squish, bubbles, rustling.
     I do not move your speed up.
     Known to you only spark
     extinguish, mascara.
     The frozen hand pressed to his thigh,
     I wander from the hill to the Mount,
     without memory, one some sound,
     sole knock on the rocks.
     Bowing to the dark stream,
     I look with dismay.

        IV

     Well, let them lay the shadow of meaninglessness
     in my eyes, and let soak dampness
     my beard, and a cap - on one side -
     crowning the twilight, reflected
     as the one trait that soul
     do not go -
     I seek no longer
     for the visor of a button, the collar,
     for his boots, at his own sleeve.
     Only the heart suddenly clogged by finding,
     somewhere I proporot: cold
     shakes it, hitting me in the chest.

        V

     Mumbles before me water,
     and stretches frost tear mouth.
     Other and not say: what can
     not be a person, a place where open
     happened?
     And laugh my crooked
     gloomy and disturbing causeway.
     And crumble the dark rush of rain.
     And the image of my second, as a man,
     It runs from reddish eyelids,
     He jumps on a wave
     under the pines, then under the willow,
     mingled with other counterparts,
     how I never get lost.

        VI

     Knock and squish, chew rotten bridge.
     Let abyss, surrounding the churchyard,
     suck the paint cross.
     But even that way with the tip of grass
     swamp not add blue ...
     Topcu barns,
     bushuy among the dense foliage still,
     invades the roots into the depths!
     And there, in the land, as here, in my chest
     all the ghosts and the dead wake,
     and let them run, cutting angle,
     on stubble to deserted villages
     and waving gust days,
     pu'gal as hats!

        VII

     Here in the hills, among the empty skies,
     among roads only in the forest,
     life recedes from itself
     and looks in amazement at the form,
     rustling around. And roots
     cling to his boots, puffing,
     and off all the lights in the village.
     And I wander on the no man's land
     Nothingness and ask for rent,
     and the wind tears of my hands warm,
     and splashing me with water hollow,
     and twisting dirt path tape.

        VIII

     Yes, there really is not like me,
     I'm somewhere in the side, behind.
     Ridge and climbs up the stubble,
     the hair on the dead body,
     and over the nest, stretched out in the grass,
     fuss boils ants.
     Nature deals with onetime,
     as usual. But the face of it at the same time -
     Let drenched sunset light -
     unwittingly done evil.
     And with all five fingers senses - five -
     I was repelled by the forest:
     Not so, Lord! in front of the curtain,
     and I did not turn into a judge.
     And if his trouble
     I still have not coped with them,
     You, O God, bran my hand,
     as the Finn for the theft.

        IX

     Friend Pollux, everything merged into a spot.
     From my mouth does not break out groaning.
     Here I am standing in an unbuttoned coat,
     and the world flows into the eye through a sieve,
     through a sieve misunderstanding.
     I'm deaf. I, God, slepovat.
     I can not hear the words, and exactly twenty watts
     lit moon. Let it be so. In heaven
     I do not even make a course between the stars and drops.
     Let echo here carries on Forests
     No song and cough.

        X

     September. Night. The whole society - the candle.
     But the shadow is still looking over his shoulder
     in my sheets and digs into the roots
     dangling. And your ghost in the hall
     rustling and gurgling water
     and smiling a star
     in the wide-open door with a jerk.

     It gets dark I have to light.
     The water pulls a trace.

        XI

     Yes, my heart breaks for you all stronger,
     and because it - all on.
     And in my voice more falsehood.
     But do you think for the fate of her duty,
     for the fate of the debt that does not require blood
     and injuring a blunt needle.
     And if you expect a smile - wait!
     I smile. Smile of a
     grave more durable roof
     and easier to smoke over chimney.

        XII

     Euterpe, do you? Where I went, huh?
     And here under me: the water? grass?
     process lira heather,
     a curved horseshoe,
     that happiness fancies,
     such that maybe
     proceeding on pace to gallop
     so quickly and not to knock the breath,
     they do not know you, nor Calliope.