Текст песни Мертвий півень та Юрій Андрухович - Ми так жили, немов співали джаз...

We lived as if we were singing jazz ...

This is an attempt to write a poem about us,
about our account, young and drunk.
What kind of wine is crazy deception
pouring in the young throat a generous time, jazz!
Although not jazz, but chamber concerts
They broke us and we went in the snow
on a mountain where forests grew and a bird
screaming about something secret and frank,
and from love it was possible to die.
Has anyone followed us in those tracks?

We lived as if we were singing jazz ...

But I forgot, maybe, about the main thing:
was a new year, it was in January.
The buildings were slack and anemic
reelers who have become insolent.
And you're dying me, every time the other one is not the same.
Even at night, those two hands are on my shoulders
I remembered, and something dark in the eyes ...
But what kind of crete will believe in the eyes?
I picked up the keys, the words of the prophecy,
although in the morning my poet swears ...

We lived as if we were singing jazz ...

How hard to get back to the plain
slip along the smooth frosty
or how to descend on my stomach like me
in the street that bends back
under the mascaron bean cappuccino
where drunkards, trams and saints
where, all the same, as quiet as a radar,
aimed at dreams, betrayed, betrayed
but a wobbly biblical grapevine
On the gates was crucified, okard.
And from the radio spikes a Christmas gift
(although he also screwed up the stage).
Where everywhere there was a dream -
hard, hangover, post-New Year.
There, where every drunk was on the verge
and all the others are drunk. In unison
we sang, forgetting about the style.
Though we were like wandering actors,
and we had Igor, he blew as ace.
Some kind of naive belief in Parnassus
Or in Provence - but the mountains went! ..
So we walked like a blind man at sea.
and you and me and everyone around us ...

We lived as if we were singing jazz ...

(c) Yuri Andrukhovych ...