Михаил Кочетков - Лагерная
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Михаил Кочетков
В этих грустных краях и туман по-английски,
И пейзаж здесь рисованный с Рокуэлла Кента,
Только врешь, брат, ведь мутит меня не от виски
Да и в легких свистит соловьем не от "Кента".
Сей угрюмый пейзаж называется "Зона"
И слуга ваш покорный в ней числится зэком.
Лишь пурга да метель все четыре сезона,
Да четыре сезона тоска по побегам.
Ваш покорный слуга не партийный придурок -
Он последний дурак из сопливых кадетов,
Он вернулся в страну комиссаров и урок,
Из Парижа вернулся - ну, ясно, "с приветом".
Где садист лейтенант бил под ребра с любовью
И статью за статьей пришивал мне, паскуда.
Но, Бог дал, не подох и, отхаркавшись кровью,
Я того лейтенанта по гроб не забуду.
И покуда я в этом заснеженном аде
От звонка до звонка мерзлоту ковыряю,
Он пускай там живет с ресторанною блядью
Да для нового званья погоны дырявит.
А уж я досижу, я упрямее черта
И, Бог даст, доберусь, доползу до столицы...
Ты тогда, лейтенант, позавидуешь мертвым,
Ты, козел, у меня на всю жизнь похмелишься.
Только это все бред, это сказки про зэков,
Ведь откуда мне знать, что все планы нарушив,
Мой сосед по бараку - угрюмый калека -
Проиграв меня в карты, на нарах задушит...
Mikhail Kochetkov
In these sad edges and fog in English,
And the landscape here is drawn from Rocuella Kent,
Just lying, brother, because it is not from whiskey
Yes, and in the lungs whistles by the nightingale not from "Kent".
This gloomy landscape is called "zone"
And your submissive servant is listed in it.
Only a blizzard and a blizzard all four seasons,
Yes, four seasons on shooting.
Your humble servant is not a party moron -
He is the last fool from snotty cadets,
He returned to the country of commissars and a lesson,
He returned from Paris - well, clear, "with greetings."
Where the sadist lieutenant beat under the ribs with love
And the article was sewing on me for the article, Paskuda.
But, God gave, not hesitated and, out of his blood,
I will not forget that lieutenant on the coffin.
And as long as I am in this snowy hell
From the call to the call, I pick permafrost,
He let him live there with a restaurant whore
Yes, for a new title, epaulettes are holey.
And I will sit down, I'm more stubborn
And, God will give, I will get, crawled to the capital ...
You then, lieutenant, will envy the dead
You, a goat, have a hangover for my life.
Only these are all nonsense, these are fairy tales about prisoners,
After all, how do I know that all plans, having violated,
My Barack's neighbor is a sullen cripple -
Having lost me into cards, it will strangle me on the bunks ...
In these sad edges and fog in English,
And the landscape here is drawn from Rocuella Kent,
Just lying, brother, because it is not from whiskey
Yes, and in the lungs whistles by the nightingale not from "Kent".
This gloomy landscape is called "zone"
And your submissive servant is listed in it.
Only a blizzard and a blizzard all four seasons,
Yes, four seasons on shooting.
Your humble servant is not a party moron -
He is the last fool from snotty cadets,
He returned to the country of commissars and a lesson,
He returned from Paris - well, clear, "with greetings."
Where the sadist lieutenant beat under the ribs with love
And the article was sewing on me for the article, Paskuda.
But, God gave, not hesitated and, out of his blood,
I will not forget that lieutenant on the coffin.
And as long as I am in this snowy hell
From the call to the call, I pick permafrost,
He let him live there with a restaurant whore
Yes, for a new title, epaulettes are holey.
And I will sit down, I'm more stubborn
And, God will give, I will get, crawled to the capital ...
You then, lieutenant, will envy the dead
You, a goat, have a hangover for my life.
Only these are all nonsense, these are fairy tales about prisoners,
After all, how do I know that all plans, having violated,
My Barack's neighbor is a sullen cripple -
Having lost me into cards, it will strangle me on the bunks ...
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