Песни (сборник). Борис Гребенщиков

говорить им,

      Что это мираж?

      Мы молчали, как цуцики,

      Пока шла торговля всем,

      Что только можно продать,

      Включая наших детей;

      И отравленный дождь

      Падает в гниющий залив.

      И мы еще смотрим в экран,

      А мы еще ждем новостей.

      И наши отцы никогда не солгут нам.

      Они не умеют лгать,

      Как волк не умеет есть мясо,

      Как птица не умеет летать.

      Скажи мне, что я сделал тебе,

      За что эта боль?

      Но это без объяснений,

      Это, видимо, что-то в крови,

      Но я сам разжег огонь,

      Который выжег меня изнутри.

      Я ушел от закона,

      Но так не дошел до любви.

      Но молись за нас,

      Молись за нас, если ты можешь.

      У нас нет надежды, но этот путь наш

      И голоса звучат все ближе и строже,

      И будь я проклят, если это мираж.

1987

      Radio silence

      Radio silence

      It suddenly feels like a new year,

      Like I’m a million miles away from here.

      I can see some kind of light here,

      Although I can’t name it.

      I want to talk about moonlight,

      I want to talk about the wild child, you know,

      That real wild one, dancing alone

      In the middle of the whirlpool.

      Spinning tales about silence,

      About radio silence,

      About some kind of asylum

      In the middle of an empty field full of danger.

      It’s strange I don’t feel like I’m a stranger;

      I feel like I belong here,

      I feel like I’ve been waiting for a long time,

      And now I can tell you some stories,

      Stories about the madmen,

      Stories about the dream-child,

      You know, that real wild one,

      Who dance alone

      In the middle of the whirlpool.

      And I can tell you about silence,

      About radio silence,

      About some kind of asylum

      In the middle of an empty field full of danger.

      If you want it…

      The postcard

      This is a postcard

      Saying I’m alright in this beautiful city,

      This is a phone call

      Saying, yes, I am sleeping alone here,

      But the telephone lines are cut,

      My hands can’t hold the paper –

      You are on my mind…

      Nobody knows your name here,

      Except when the moon is out.

      And then they toss in their sleep

      Crying out for you to take them,

      But me I cannot sleep,

      I cannot dream,

      My heart is shattered –

      You are on my mind…

      Once seven colors used to make a man blind,

      And now we are like birds stuck in barbed wire,

      Precise, like sunrise,

      A child just like any other,

      Made of the bones of the earth,

      Fragile and deathless.

      Yes, I’m alright,

      I’m a church,

      And I’m burning down.

      You are on my mind…

      The Wind

      Your eyes are colored like wind,

      The Wind from the northern sea.

      A wave on the sand so clear,

      Whoever got me that far must be laughing;

      Alright, I can laugh as well.

      So sweet is your touch,

      May I never go free,

      But I’m breaking away

      To return unbound,

      And I hear the sound

      Behind my shoulder

      Like the shape of the swan, gliding,

      And when the trees are bare,

      There will be nowhere to return to

      But we stay, believing.

      Your eyes are colored like wind…

      Bringing incredible news

      I don’t know if I’m ready,

      Does it matter?

      Whoever cut me that deep,

      I love you.

      And here I stand, transfixed,

      Listening to the sound of the wind.

      The Time

      Sitting in a corner

      In my castle made of single-malt and smoke

      With all my friends around me.

      And I love them «till I choke

      And I watch you dance with someone,

      Someone not even there,

      And you’re simple as in sacrilege,

      And you