Александр Щербина - Нищий в переходе
текст песни

beggar in the transition
with the eyes of a drunk violinist
pulls his hand, as a bad note pulls -

tedious, long, also false, as if
not an extra ruble draws from passers -by,
And the soul,

as if not tremor in lost fingers,
And the memory of tremolo
once sold by a drunk violin ...

stalls, advertising,
The smell of puff pastries
Wipes the stomach, as if in torture,

easier to calculate how many new people
on the day they go down the transition,
than to guess, which of them will stop:

People in traffic,
People break, rub, go around the corners,
Fill cracks

Unless hung with packages
not too happy women
they slide down -

First on the window with flowers,
then by the poor,
They will regret it with one eyes, and immediately above -

to shields, posters,
To the discounts on fitness, on fur coats,
On tours to Turkey ...

Kutsya dog pressed to the leg,
I made a puddle
Brushes, afraid, but then pushes,

the beggar shakes off
The beggar frowns,
Takes him with him to the street
and leads home - in empty

basement in the backyard of an unfinished office,
where, hiding from the world with boards,
It finally becomes yourself:

feeds the dog,
Healthy with a quite quite hand, trembling on the withers,
and, moving the curtains,
Shows a new friend strange tricks:

Twelve hours arrows,
Chronos point,
A sigh flashes behind the scenes
Twisting a different notebook,

notes with tails come to life,
They begin to blink
Walking, crossing
tiny piles-legs,

as passers -by in the transition,
As pictures with "just" ...

All of them there, behind the scenes:
With all your affairs, debts, dreams,
funny thoughts

those that passed by, and those that were squinted
looked around, almost collided, stumbled,
Stopped fixing the handbag ...
In the niche of the basement on Dante gloomy ...

beggar (or what is it now?),
dressed by some unknown power in all
Black, with a red flair, gets up,
Mer its scene, gives

The third is the last, most likely, a call,
And under the oppressive moans of notes,
takes his non -existent violin,

presses to the shoulder, raises the carved
Like a face from a stone
Srings, waves a bow -
And the music begins ...