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STALA PRODAVAT'SYA DLYA BOL'SHINSTVA! (A YA OSTALSYA LOYAL) A NE STALKER BOL'SHINSTVO PEREVODCHIKOV

ПОЭТ ЭМО

PROVODYAT MAXINATSIU, I ZASCHISCHAT' YA IX NE NAMEREN

I GOT BETWEEN TOES (YEAH, SCHIZOPHRENIA!) REKKOLEKTSII (I RECKON) S POSYLA PREZHNIX PEREVODOV (MOG SDELAT' TOL'KO S ZHENSCHINOY KOTOROJ OTKAZALSYA POMOGAT')

I AHMADULINA VS. CONRAD (DA, LYUBYM SPOSOBOM) POEHMA O TOM KAK VLADIMIR SMIRNOV UBILSYA (POTERYAV SVOY DAR, I EMU VSE GOVORILI) PYTALSYA LYUBYM SPOSOBOM PREDOTVRATIT' PEREVODY MOI ("NO MY LYUDI OSOBENNYE") GROW TRASH, FAINT, PUKE AND THROW UP

NAMYOK NA VETERINARA (SNEZHOK MACNAMARA)
"TAKAYA UZHE MY PARA, CHTO YA NE MOGU VAM
V OSOBENNOSTI PLURAL, NAZVAT' NE GOLUBYM"
PROSTOE PREUVELICHENIE BYLOGO DARA

A ON NE BYL BY I BYVSHIM (TAKOJ VOT DOVLATOV
FAMILIEJ SVOEJ BRYANNYJ; SVOEJ ZHE BRYATSAVSHIJ
I UPADAYUSCHIY S NEBA V GORAH V PREDSTOYASCHIJ
SNEG, GOREST'YU EGO KROVI UPIVSHIYSYA S MATOV)!



By the Train 
(M. Scherbakov) 

I couldn't take off on wings, into the night, a rail; 
On time isn't happening, the sleep might well prevail 
But with day's blaze in coup -- wayfarer eats some food 
And says he knows the scoop: in hell he can burn good, 
Inferno taste as soul -- and touched by flames but whole. 

Bandana gives him ruds -- in wins he sees no fits: 
Some HQ base deprived him of some benefits... 
And he is heading there, from the Point M to N; 
In debt is every square and they'll be punished then! 
He waves the fists at night. He can't be helped, not quite... 

He knows, he's right, and dub -- in hell he's well appraised 
That to sow ashe and blood he wasn't prod by the base; 
That to badge up the trap and boot up an old toe 
He is from birth made hap. It don't take an auto... 
Wayfarer drinks, I'm near -- I'm stranded with bad fare. 

The night fades out with nought, as ashe and blood is shed -- 
I feel I've tied the knot but can't contain my sted: 
I wasn't born for prods, I haven't earned my burn 
But fare is all I've got -- wrong ticket not returned 
And right one not procured: I'm late and I can cure!



Scherbakov: I donated an organ, mama in closet

The shore was all but beige: not vain, fron age to age
Was it pueriled and whitened by Alpian waters' rage!
On how the shore is white, the hill garden looked right;
In garden was the house and the hearth was burning blithe.
Thereinit was the house and the fireplace furnaced bright.

The doorshed queaked and scaped; the garden roared as cape
Whereby the set was leaking, from heights -- from skies agape.
Upon the hill, a dark, and where the dark was stark
With hands serene and coldened you beckoned me afar! C-

repuscularly breezed and lofty was the East,
Again the tide was tidy and singing was the creased
Sand, waiting for the blooms, as openeyed stalk looms
And France was brillianting from over the lake loos!

But groans of flying herds and waves's sighs where it hurts
Were noisying, as if they were saying: Nature morts
And the bank, white as chalk, was telling me I stalk
And the police is called for on luces and on calk...

I had to wake the hell and get out in a shell
That moves upon the water and wishes new life well;
The zenith lingered fresh and I, not being called trash
Saw shore and bank, dealt azure, where I'm for got mid mesh

And meth is smoked, and organs commit me to the trash
But the bank roars as flesh.

The Shadow
(M. Scherbakov)

I've gotten used to a celibate shadow, observing no farther than a s-
Tep; the book is only a paper; a looking glass's but a glass.
In it a razing twin and submissive listener, full of pennance,
Fades, wouldn't be even blinking let alone drooling -- it was well as!

Yesterday, he did get tedious and attempted to please his appetite;
Didn't indulge or wasn't enticed by my elocutive tune --
Whereupon he shot out of the house to weigh, and compare, and happen,
All along with some new tunes what are they doing -- once in a moon!

Well it is not some show wagon for the new age, it's not always funny;
The hearing's waiting for a grandiloquent essence, a relic, tone --
You enjoy your rife walk, my sagacious echo, obsconding money,
Conquer the noise without laugh, if you don't find music -- just move along...

The brigant crowd has been dictating to ancient choirs some amiss-notes;
But the moment that something's athwart, speedy gracious, away and down,
With the choir, it's unbearable, while at the bottom, okay in distance --
Whether it's that or this way, akin and identically not fun.

I am dazzled and fading; my debut is lost and the benefit's needless,
Necessary now away from the stagings, to the dark silent prayer;
This way, that a way, broke some rules, barefoot bent some needles --
Time away from the searing acutest to dulling one, when it's bare...

With that abated ache, the care's art, but the maximum's two tablets --
Secong, and all the insane pain, and residual head-piece have flown away;
Hey you twin, when you do return from your intricate walking habits
Reinvent lackadaisically, how to thence occupy your day...


The Cranes
(Rasul Gamzatov)

It seems to me quite often that the soldiers
Who never made it back from blood-soaked plains,
Have not lain in the soil where it is colder,
But turned into the white, high-flying cranes.

And even to this day, from that time early,
They hover high and send to us their cries –
Isn’t that why so often, and so sadly,
We become silent, looking at the skies.

The flock makes its tired way across the heavens,
Bound through the fog, like ships across the sea;
And in that long procession, as it happens,
I see there is an opening for me.

There’ll come a day, and when that day is ending,
There in the same blue dark, my place I’ll find;
And from that spot, distant birdcalls be sending
To all of you, who have been left behind.


NEOBYCHNO PRONIKNOVENEN!

RASCHLENIT' POZVONOCHNIK SO SPINY -- (SLEPYANA SPINNYM MOZGOM),
SIZYM CHLENOM VOSPOL'ZOVAT'SYA SINE
I PREDSTAVIT', KAKIE PACANY
PROBIVALI EYO, CHITAYA SIMONOVA,

POROBELI EYO DO AVARIJ,
TEX MENTA DOCHEREY, CHTO BILI BOMBY
S VYSHEK NEPREDKNOVENNYH LAGEREY (EE PREDKA-SHTANGISTA),
GDE BARAKI -- SPLOSHNYE KATAKOMBY

DA I BARLEY V CHICAGO, GDE BARAK
S MALCOMBXOM ISPYTYVAL NE NUZHDY
A BESEDY ON VEL -- DA PROSTO TAK:
SOGLASISYA S OZONOM, KOEMUZHDO,

VOT I SISI MASHONKI, VOT I TRAH --
VOT I BEREG POTERYANNYJ SO VLAST'YU
GALI NA CHETVERYONKAX I ZA STRAX
TEBYA POL'ZUYUSCHE SVOEYU SLAST'YU!




прочтений: 7
раздел: пародии
дата публикации: Jun 8, 2018

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