Текст песни Никонов - Не Рим, не Троя...

not Rome, not Troy, but only
a cold, wet morning
in a provincial town that
a frightened kitten curled up
on the edge of the empire.
but you are a conqueror from the front door,
where I just smoked,
swallowing graffiti on erased walls
and blowing smoke into a broken window.
ah, in that there is nowhere to go,
simple proof of victory;
so the Roman legionaries,
plundering the former impregnable city,
loitered along the strange, cold streets
to each other boasting of prey.
your trophies:
lines of fire spitting in the face with napalm.
in itself letting the whole world,
What did you expect?
a beautiful minute of recognition?
but this is a temporary measure,
so they fulfill the request of the condemned.
in a torn cloak
on a rough English girl
(what showers kissed your lips?),
how many times
with anguish coped, and then
broken loose threads
suddenly found poems
filthy fornication sizes.
they circled the head, it seemed
a little more and will collapse
The visible part of reality, having opened
then the present that we all know
in seconds of awakening, but the world -
irreparable misfortune - was impregnable.
eternal trouble.
poems?
poems such nonsense.
what can change
words boring combination,
when we do not make sense?
here is the blank page:
in it all conceivable contents,
shades of hundreds of languages,
sizes, accents, rhythms.
why destroy the library
biographies of angels,
Is not it better to empty the front door
read dirty words.