Текст песни Константин Арбенин - Монолог о языке

Monologue about language

Language ... not nose, not ear, not leg -
What can be more beautiful!
Length and duration of sound
Dusty, kiss, silence.

There is a language other beauty:
He is soft and elastic, stubborn and flexible,
He, like a gymnastics projectile for mouth,
Indispensable for face and smiles,
For all screaming and besides
Need to braid lace
From lies and flattery, krivdy and intrigue,
But if without details, straight -
Any language is only a gesture reflection,
And most of the only two: male and female -
Language of freedom and language of bliss.

About how many bizarre discoveries
Prepares the collision of these areas
In one paradise! There would only be enough acne
Step over the language barrier
And there are no vocabulary reserves,
Reduce talking and feeling style
We are replaced by magnetic passages.
Language is a storm, he does not end the calm.

Oh, the sea of ​​verbalia is dangerous!
The nature of the language is so voluptuous,
The structure is so painfully thin!
English Charm, French Slip ...
When you are under the rule of language,
There is a charm even in a shallow immersion
In that pink, wet souffle,
Fitted Flura ...
Anthem tap! As he wrote a slave
Tongue to us dance to feel partner -
Feel, understand, penetrate, merge ...
He is a mediator himself, translator,
On the tip of which lurks
All that remains between lines:

Love and death of the universe, and in addition -
The opportunity to feel that the sin of Obolgan
First of charge. As Bokacho said,
Language is a secondary childbearing body,
He knows virgin sounds
Birth of words - Danov flour.

Threat of depth and feeling of taste
It gained the opportunity to breed
In the arms of an excellent claim,
Go through two classical traditions
Right to left or top down.
Tamara, Margarita, Anais ...

And if you love at least once,
You have a dream for sure.
How Some Henry Miller will say later,
Artists in debt in the language.
And who would say, notice by the way,
How to say one publisher,
While they do not care well,
Artists do not give debts.

Return to the subject of the conversation.
In days of doubt, painful suffering,
At the watch of a great discord
Only he was a beacon of my wanders,
And your own pride on the need
His, I showed the sky!
And in the most tragic
Liberated from the divine
Only in it one I found a support.
He gave me strength, brought to Babylon,
Where I raised his carriers
And taught over other heads
Formal nuggets Thoughts
Melt in tight ingots of words.
How did it end? Yes not about the same speech
That I could not warn them all.
Yes, in the language there are inter-mines,
But even right now, when the century passed,
I know there is no safer
For abandoned in the abyss of the polyglot.

I sing a language, I drink for his abilities,
The rest does not give the mind.
Any language is ideally space,
Dictionary from stars and spheres. And foreground
Long live language, the coming language,
Head philosophy
Through terms to poetry shone.
I gave rise to you, and I distorted.

Everything in the world is holistic A, it means that it is completed.
In any process there is a long box,
Your overwhelming pancake, his peak,
And then everything slides downwards.
Everything cries, rounding in something.
Only creativity could be infinite
It could not have the end,
Whatever the potential of the Creator.
He, unfortunately, also dried up.
There is a stone for each braid,
Abel always has Cain in the family.

From here, whoever is to blame,
Templates, repeats, plagiarism.
I could not save my gift from Tlen.
Talent is dried, but percentages are dripping.
Now just the benefit of the nashia
I invent slang and accents.
Mocking over the word, that is, without a gap
Crowing your own.
Yourself cheaper, language - more expensive.
Such is the law, but still, yet, yet
Covership languages ​​- do not blame me -
Not the same thing that the indulgent of fate.