Текст песни Александр Блок - Поэты

Outside the city grew deserted quarter
On the soil marshy and unsteady.
Poets lived there - and everyone met
Another arrogant smile.

In vain did the day of the luminous rose
Above this sad marsh;
His inmate devoted his day to
Wine and hard work.

When they got drunk, they swore in friendship,
They talked cynically and straight.
In the morning they vomited. Then, locked up,
They worked stupidly and zealously.

Then they got out of the booths like dogs,
We watched as the sea burned.
And the gold of each passer-by
Captivated with knowledge of the matter.

Wonderful, dreamed of a golden age,
They scolded the publishers amicably.
And they wept bitterly over a small flower,
Over a small pearl cloud ...

So the poets lived. Reader and friend!
You think, maybe - worse
Your daily impotent attempts,
Your philistine puddle?

No, dear reader, my critic is blind!
At the extreme, there is a poet
And braids, and clouds, and a golden age,
You are not available for all this! ..

You will be satisfied with yourself and your wife,
With his constitution,
But the poet has a worldwide drinking-bout,
And he has few constitutions!

Let me die under the fence like a dog,
Let life trample me in the ground, -
I believe: then God brought me snow,
That blizzard kissed me!