Борис Пастернак - Вакханалия
текст песни

Boris Pasternak

Bacchanalia

Town. Winter sky.
Dark. Gate flights.
Boris and Gleb
Light, and the service is coming.

Praying foreheads, ries
And the old Shushuna
Candles with a flame from below
Weakly illuminated.

And on the street Vyuga
I mixed everything in one
And break through to each other
Nobody is given.

In Vyvyuyas Buran
Smiled: prison,
Excavators, taps,
New buildings, houses,

Clugs of the repertoire
On a posture pillar
And the trees of the boulevard
In silver thread.

And the great era
Trace at every step
B crop, in the turmoil,
In tire tires in the snow,

B broken views, symptoms
Centuries -old changes,
In our good friends,
In the clouds of masts and antennas,

On the facades, in costumes,
In simplicity without embellishment,
B conversations and thoughts
Touching us.

And in the knowledge of double
Life, poor in my opinion,
But great under the sign
The losses incurred.

"Winter", "Zis" and "Tatra",
Having shifted the headlights,
They drive up to the theater
And they blind the sidewalk.

Lost in the snowstorm
Reflectors of places
They besiege without a goal
Theater entrance.

Everyone goes a string
As through the system of the halberd,
Hurry to push
On "Maria Stuart".

Youth by note
Goes a ticket
And the great artist
Helgish hello to.

There is still a fight behind the doors
And in the midst of darkness
Growing out of darkness
Scenery canvases.

As if running out of dancing
And having left their circle,
Queen of the Scots
Appears suddenly.

All in her life, all freedom,
And in the chest stabberry,
And prison arches
They did not break her.

Dragonfly
Her mother gave birth
Wound the male heart,
Female affection to captivate.

And for this, maybe
How hot fire is
The daughter will fold her head
At hand, the executioner.

In the skirt of ashes
She sat down with the edge at the table.
Ramfa is bright from below
The light pours her on the hem.

Nothing a rotikhrostka
Administrations carriers,
Both poems and stage,
Both Paris and Ronsar.

To the death of the sentenced,
That her food and shelter,
Ditches, forts, bastions,
Flame of reflectors?

But the end of the heroine
Until the rest of the time
Will be fame from now on
And surrounded by rumor.

The same rabies of risk,
The same joy and pain
Packed the role and artist,
And the artist and the role.

Like a prime buoy
Through so many centuries
Helps the deceased
Run away from the shackles.

How much courage is needed
To play for centuries,
How the ravines play
How the river plays,

How diamonds play,
How wine plays,
How to play without refusal
Sometimes destined

How was played by a teenager
The people are simple
In a white dress in strip
And with a scythe.

And again we are in snowstorms
And she is still sweeping
And in a church chapel
Light, and the service is coming.

Somewhere the winter sky
Passing yards,
And the window of the consumer goods
Under Mount Mishura.

Somewhere a feast. Somewhere booze.
Birthday katezh.
Fur up, inside out
Pile of clothes.

Doors from the stairs to the canopy,
Laughter and opinions exchange.
Three lilac baskets.
Ice cyclamen.

Next door to the dining room
Greens, mountains of caviar,
In the serving of Lilova
Salmon, herring, cheeses,

And the crunch of napkins,
And seasoning is
And the wine of all the colors,
And all vods of the variety.

And under the dialect of a stow
Chandelier drowns in rays
Shoulders, backs and busts,
And earrings in the ears.

And more deadly crankcases
These lines of the mouth,
These hands are heartless,
These lips are kindness.

And on these diva
Watching how Maniac
Someone drinks silently
Until dawn, cognac.

Already above him Meshumi
They shed a tear.
On the sixteenth glass
He is not in the eye.

Having strengthened behind
The right to be called dumb,
He is resourceful in women,
In the middle of men is unleasable.

For the third time a divorce
And having lived to the gray hair,
The life of their contemporaries
He justified alone.

Gift of friends and goods
He put into circulation
And returned them as a gift
The whole world in