Любовь Глотова и Анатолий Изотов - 17 - Еще элегия
текст песни

Oleg Chukhontsev
Another elegy

Really you, I thought, going out
from the tram of the 37th at the stop
where it just was, where the granular from the rain
The pavement was still smoking, from dating

I will refrain, and that before the season it was a month of May,
Are you really? you glanced over the sitting
And I caught mine, and the 37th tram
Twisted in bragged, and moved your blue raincoat,

exposing the child’s neck, and I walked away
waking up at the same time, as if along
Are you really going
In the dark, trying to find, not about the weather,

not knowing any number, at least a year,
You slept so quietly that, afraid to touch,
Studiosus, I shouted after you, you are an idiot,
On one tram ride and grind,
And grind
ride on one tram and

you can’t look with a grip with a gaze, but it was present
as if a sign of inevitability, or something, and the news of both
and breathed in the glass, and pretended the number
equal to two shells,

for the time of the Elegy of the Roman-Neurims has passed, and the term
the present, not in the morning is shorter at night,
But when I see your face and a gray temple
with a vein of beating, dear, you believe, completely

Everything retreats - fatigue, years, neurosis,
Only the smell of your hair
defiantly at hand, so that

but there is no final, there are no words at all
This is a kind of depression, brainstocking:
Did you meet late? But they met, but love,
Like Comrade Stalin wrote, wins and all that,

There remains the hope that we have not been rested with our leaders
and let them die with their death in their bed,
Lord, I say, are you really here, really

You give a chance, so your parks got into it, go, go
The yarn is imperceptible - is it not a gap? -
But a friend with me, at the dawn you don't wake her,
at the dawn, she sleeps sweetly, and the tram left
The tram left
at dawn
at the dawn you don't wake her