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Не предавать ради формы смысл,
А придать мыслям форму.
Я не поддаюсь гипнозу чисел, запомни!
Нет единой формулы, нет нормы!
Но есть риск не дорыть до прииска истин.
Когда твоя лопата пахнет виски.
Когда ты близкий, только пока
Не видно дна твоей миски,
И подать вовремя подана.
Толпа довольна, и полно.
Ведь полые слова бьют в никуда,
И совсем не больно,
Зачем искать ответы на вопросы.
Если так просто воспользоваться спросом.
Который мечет китч в массы горстью,
И уже каждый бич себя кличет боссом...
Я господ, мол, а вы — мелюзга!
Конечная остановка мозга.
Не предавать ради формы смысл,
А придать мыслям форму.
Я не поддаюсь гипнозу чисел, запомни!
Нет единой формулы, нет нормы!
Если нет слов, от которых торкает.
Нет и толка от диска на полке.
Это тонко, но не рвется, даже
Когда очень громко — вот что важно.
Вот что нужно! Это оружие против
Гниения духа, отравления плоти,
И мое творчество, рожденное в муках.
Не позабудет свое отчество
В погоне за качеством звука!
Когда в моих руках рупор,
И каждое слово—будто под лупой,
Глупо тратить драгоценное время вселенной
На что-то не вечное, тленное...
Не предавать ради формы смысл,
А придать мыслям форму.
Я не поддаюсь гипнозу чисел, запомни!
Нет единой формулы, нет нормы!
Do not betray the meaning of the form,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to the hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
But there is a risk not to finish the mines of truths.
When your shovel smells of whiskey.
When you are close, only for now
The bottom of your bowl is not visible
And submitted on time.
The crowd is satisfied, and full.
After all, hollow words hit nowhere,
And it doesn't hurt at all
Why look for answers to questions.
If it’s so easy to be in demand.
Which the kitsch mosses in the masses of a handful,
And already every scourge celebrates himself with the boss ...
I am gentlemen, they say, and you are a meel!
The final stop of the brain.
Do not betray the meaning of the form,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to the hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
If there are no words from which it sticks.
There is no sense from the disk on the shelf.
It is subtle, but not torn, even
When very loud - this is what is important.
That's what you need! This is a weapon against
Rotting of the spirit, poisoning of the flesh,
And my work born in agony.
Will not forget its middle name
In pursuit of sound quality!
When in my hands there is a mouthpiece
And every word - Budto under the magnifying glass,
Stupid spending the precious time of the universe
For something not eternal, perishable ...
Do not betray the meaning of the form,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to the hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to the hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
But there is a risk not to finish the mines of truths.
When your shovel smells of whiskey.
When you are close, only for now
The bottom of your bowl is not visible
And submitted on time.
The crowd is satisfied, and full.
After all, hollow words hit nowhere,
And it doesn't hurt at all
Why look for answers to questions.
If it’s so easy to be in demand.
Which the kitsch mosses in the masses of a handful,
And already every scourge celebrates himself with the boss ...
I am gentlemen, they say, and you are a meel!
The final stop of the brain.
Do not betray the meaning of the form,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to the hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
If there are no words from which it sticks.
There is no sense from the disk on the shelf.
It is subtle, but not torn, even
When very loud - this is what is important.
That's what you need! This is a weapon against
Rotting of the spirit, poisoning of the flesh,
And my work born in agony.
Will not forget its middle name
In pursuit of sound quality!
When in my hands there is a mouthpiece
And every word - Budto under the magnifying glass,
Stupid spending the precious time of the universe
For something not eternal, perishable ...
Do not betray the meaning of the form,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to the hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
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