Дмитрий Кимельфельд - Прыжки с трамплина
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Дмитрий Кимельфельд - Прыжки с трамплина - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Рассказ бригадира лесоповальческой
бригады на трассе Уренгой-Ужгород
Я, может быть, сейчас скажу немного длинно:
Всему виною — прыжки с трамплина.
А дело в том, что год назад какой-то гангстер
В горах построил трамплин гигантский.
Я с малых лет, как к левитановым полотнам,
Припал душою к суперполётам.
Во сне летал и наяву я постоянно —
Ну, как Янковский у Балаяна
В тот роковой для меня день в Бакуриани
Уже я думал — рекорд в кармане.
Внизу стоит толпа и смотрит, рты разинув —
Сплошные кепки. А в них — грузины.
Судья толкнул меня вперёд и охнул слабо.
Сам стал зелёный, как флаг ислама.
Когда я прыгнул, под лопатку ткнулось дуло.
А сзади голос: «Вертай к Стамбулу!»
Я говорю: «Да у меня ж не «ИЛ, а лыжи!
Нас над границей собьют свои же!»
А он в ответ: «Да ты любому дашь здесь фору!
Жить хочешь, дядя — вертай к Босфору!»
…И как ракетчики не сбили нас обоих?…
Спасибо, мама, что я не «Боинг»!
Так пролетел я километров тыщу триста —
Причем, под дулом у террориста.
Видать, с напарником моим общались черти,
Но только вижу — внизу мечети.
Он соскочил, а я застрял в лимонных ветках,
На что и била их контрразведка.
Но я не выдал, не сболтнул, не брякнул всуе,
За что и как мы тут голосуем.
Я ЦРУшникам твердил в припадке бурном:
«Хочу обратно, к родимым урнам!
Хочу в свой край полей, лесов и дисциплины.
Там мой народ и там мои трамплины!»
Потом меня — всё это помню я до дрожи —
Постигла участь их молодёжи.
Конечно, кое-кто и там живёт шикарно,
Но я трудился, как папа Карло.
Так и погиб бы на чужбине я, как Овод,
Когда б не дальний наш газопровод.
К нему добрался я, поллитру хряпнул с горя
И — полз по трубам до Уренгоя.
Ну что ж, пошли валить стволы, кончай собранье!
Спасибо, братцы, всем за вниманье.
The story of the brigadier timbering
Brigades on the highway Urengoy-Uzhgorod
I may now say a little long:
All Wine - jumping from a springboard.
And the fact is that a year ago some gangster
In the mountains built a springboard giant.
From the small years, like levitan canvas,
Put the soul to the superstar.
In a dream, I flew and Intow I constantly -
Well, like jankovsky at Balyan
In that fatal day for me in Bakuriani
I already thought - a record in my pocket.
Downstairs is the crowd and looks, the mouths can be broken -
Solid caps. And in them - Georgians.
The judge pushed me forward and hurriedly weakly.
He himself became green as the Islam flag.
When I jumped, darulo jumped under the blade.
And behind the voice: "Vestay to Istanbul!"
I say: "Yes, I do not" ill, and ski!
We will keep our border over the border! "
And in response: "Yes, you will give anyone to anyone here!
You want to live, Uncle - Vestay to Bosphorus! "
... and how the rackets did not hit us both? ...
Thank you, my mother, that I am not "Boeing"!
So flew by kilometers Trem Strist -
Moreover, under the spirit of the terrorist.
Look, with the partner, I ordered devils,
But I see - at the bottom of the mosque.
He jumped, and I was stuck in lemon branches,
What to beat their counterintelligence.
But I did not give out, I did not bother, did not blapted VSE,
For what and how we vote here.
I told tsrushnikov in a stormy fit:
"I want to be back, to the born urns!
I want to in my edge of fields, forests and discipline.
There is my people and there are my springbins! "
Then me - I remember all this to tremble -
He suffered a fate of their youth.
Of course, someone and there lives gorgeous,
But I worked like Dad Carlo.
So I would die on a foreign land like a fuel,
When it is not a distant gas pipeline.
I got to him, Politra poured with grief
And - CHRAND in the pipes to Urengoy.
Well, we went to throw the trunks, stop the collected!
Thank you, brothers, all for your attention.
Brigades on the highway Urengoy-Uzhgorod
I may now say a little long:
All Wine - jumping from a springboard.
And the fact is that a year ago some gangster
In the mountains built a springboard giant.
From the small years, like levitan canvas,
Put the soul to the superstar.
In a dream, I flew and Intow I constantly -
Well, like jankovsky at Balyan
In that fatal day for me in Bakuriani
I already thought - a record in my pocket.
Downstairs is the crowd and looks, the mouths can be broken -
Solid caps. And in them - Georgians.
The judge pushed me forward and hurriedly weakly.
He himself became green as the Islam flag.
When I jumped, darulo jumped under the blade.
And behind the voice: "Vestay to Istanbul!"
I say: "Yes, I do not" ill, and ski!
We will keep our border over the border! "
And in response: "Yes, you will give anyone to anyone here!
You want to live, Uncle - Vestay to Bosphorus! "
... and how the rackets did not hit us both? ...
Thank you, my mother, that I am not "Boeing"!
So flew by kilometers Trem Strist -
Moreover, under the spirit of the terrorist.
Look, with the partner, I ordered devils,
But I see - at the bottom of the mosque.
He jumped, and I was stuck in lemon branches,
What to beat their counterintelligence.
But I did not give out, I did not bother, did not blapted VSE,
For what and how we vote here.
I told tsrushnikov in a stormy fit:
"I want to be back, to the born urns!
I want to in my edge of fields, forests and discipline.
There is my people and there are my springbins! "
Then me - I remember all this to tremble -
He suffered a fate of their youth.
Of course, someone and there lives gorgeous,
But I worked like Dad Carlo.
So I would die on a foreign land like a fuel,
When it is not a distant gas pipeline.
I got to him, Politra poured with grief
And - CHRAND in the pipes to Urengoy.
Well, we went to throw the trunks, stop the collected!
Thank you, brothers, all for your attention.
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