БекХан - Один
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БекХан - Один - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Не херувимам, - в жизни и делах,
Не грезящим о чуждых берегах -
Дано пройти тропою тех немногих,
Немногих, за которыми свой след,
Что не петлял и чаще одинокий.
Дорог там нет, и путь укажет свет
Звезды прекрасной, яркой, но далекой.
И девяносто девять долгих лет
Копило время век, не уставая.
Год сотый вписан мастером в сонет,
Одной строкою норму нарушая.
А проданным по бросовой цене
Так тяжело вставалось на колени,
Что даже те, чья истина в вине,
Пытались строить Вечные ступени.
Наш пир в разгаре, и гостей не счесть, -
Охотников за мантией кровавой.
Я - пьедестал. Да! Я сегодня есть,
Хотя и гнусь под царственной оравой.
И каждый лезет со своим тавром,
В свой личный рай призывно завлекая.
Мой сотый год не кончится добром.
Я слово Мастера ненужным не признаю.
Как по закону вывернутых рук
Идти туда, куда маршрут предложен?!
Я разрываю этот черный круг.
Единственной строкой я стану, может.
Not cherubs - in life and deeds,
Not dreaming of alien shores -
It is given to go through the path of those few
The few, followed by their trace,
Which did not loop and more often lonely.
There are no roads there, and the path will indicate the light
The stars are beautiful, bright, but distant.
And ninety -nine long years
The time was saved, without tired.
The hundredth year is inscribed by the master in the sonnet,
By one strict, violating the norm.
And sold at a catchy price
So hard to kneel,
That even those whose truth is in fault
They tried to build eternal steps.
Our feast is in full swing, and the guests cannot be counted, -
Bloody mantle hunters.
I am a pedestal. Yes! I am today
Although he is chasing under the royal horde.
And everyone climbs with his Taurus,
In their personal heaven, invitingly losing.
My hundredth year will not end in good.
I do not recognize the word of the master as unnecessary.
As according to the law of turned hands
Go to where the route is offered?!
I break this black circle.
I will become the only line, maybe.
Not dreaming of alien shores -
It is given to go through the path of those few
The few, followed by their trace,
Which did not loop and more often lonely.
There are no roads there, and the path will indicate the light
The stars are beautiful, bright, but distant.
And ninety -nine long years
The time was saved, without tired.
The hundredth year is inscribed by the master in the sonnet,
By one strict, violating the norm.
And sold at a catchy price
So hard to kneel,
That even those whose truth is in fault
They tried to build eternal steps.
Our feast is in full swing, and the guests cannot be counted, -
Bloody mantle hunters.
I am a pedestal. Yes! I am today
Although he is chasing under the royal horde.
And everyone climbs with his Taurus,
In their personal heaven, invitingly losing.
My hundredth year will not end in good.
I do not recognize the word of the master as unnecessary.
As according to the law of turned hands
Go to where the route is offered?!
I break this black circle.
I will become the only line, maybe.
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