Текст песни Евгений Клячкин - Песня о дружбе
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Народ - он вечно чего-нибудь хочет
и вечно про что-нибудь да поет.
Но песня, что в горле сейчас клокочет,
не про поющий ее народ.
Ждет микрофон, выгнув чуткий носик,
все. Вы похлопали - и домой.
А кто-то в портфеле меня уносит
и ночью склоняется надо мной.
Дремлют под снегом еловые лапы,
за стенкой ворочается жена.
В зеленом свете настольной лампы
он бдит надо мною, ему не до сна.
Он каждую букву во мне изучит -
отдельно текст, отдельно подтекст,
что мне неясно - то он озвучит
и выявит голос - этих, ну, «тех».
И потянувшись длинно и вкусно, -
почти окунется в приятную лень.
Теперь, когда отдана дань искусству, -
на отдых. Ведь завтра - рабочий день.
А утром я предстану пред очи -
лицо в улыбке, хороший рост.
(Сердце опустится, но не очень.)
Приятный голос. Первый вопрос.
«Рад познакомиться, много слышал,
свидеться, жалко, не довелось.
Ну так что там такое вышло?
Ай-яй-яй? До седых волос.
Спели, выходит? А стоит ли, право?
И так ли для вас эта песня важна.
За правду? А мы что же - против правды?
Вопрос - кому эта правда нужна!»
И льется беседа, и вьются кольца,
и на часах уже скоро шесть,
посмотришь сбоку - друзья, да и только!
А если вдуматься - так и есть.
Повязаны делом, а это немало!
Ну разве в меня так вникает еще
хоть кто-нибудь из профессионалов
(любители в данной игре - не в счет!)
Опять же - собрание сочинений -
жалко, конечно, что не для всех! -
зато без редакторских изменений -
академическое! - в досье.
Ну пожурят. Замолчу на годик
или на пять - не об этом звук!
Время уходит, люди приходят
и снова на сцену меня зовут.
На ту же самую, между прочим, -
Дворец работников МВД.
И платят вполне, хотя и не очень
(но больше зато не зовут нигде).
Ну до чего же замысловато
закручено в жизни - куда там стих!
Они на мне получают зарплату,
а я свою получаю от них.
И в век наш, атомно-электрический,
я заявляю, как должно быть:
в дружбе - основа экономическая,
и в этом меня не сбить.
23 - 24 ноября 1982
The people - he always wants something
and always sings about something.
But the song that's in the throat now bubbling,
not singing her people.
Waiting for the microphone, arching a sensitive nose,
all. You patted - and home.
And someone in the portfolio carries me away
and at night he leans over me.
The spruce paws are asleep under the snow,
behind the wall he turns his wife.
In the green light of a table lamp
he is waking over me, he is not up to sleep.
He will study every letter in me -
separate text, separate subtext,
that to me it is not clear - that he will sound
and will reveal the voice - these, well, "those."
And stretching long and tasty, -
almost plunge into a pleasant laziness.
Now, with a tribute to art, -
to rest. After all, tomorrow is a working day.
And in the morning I will stand before my eyes -
face in a smile, good growth.
(The heart sinks, but not very much.)
A pleasant voice. First question.
"I'm glad to meet you, I've heard a lot,
it's pathetic, it did not happen.
Well, so what happened out there?
Oh no no no? To gray hair.
Are they singing, coming out? Is it worth it, right?
And is this song important for you?
For the truth? Are we against the truth?
The question is - who really needs this! "
And the conversation is pouring down, and the rings are winding,
and the clock is soon six,
you look at the side - friends, and only!
And if you think about it, it is.
Are tied up by business, and it is a lot of!
Does it really penetrate me so much?
at least one of the professionals
(lovers in this game - do not count!)
Again - a collection of works -
sorry, of course, that is not for everyone! -
but without editorial changes -
academic! - in the dossier.
Well, they scolded. I'll shut up for a year
or five - not about this sound!
Time is running out, people are coming
and again on the stage my name is.
On the same, by the way, -
Palace of Ministry of Internal Affairs employees.
And they pay quite, albeit not very much
(but they do not call for anything else).
Well, how intricate
twirled in life - where there's died!
They get me a salary,
and I get mine from them.
And in our century, the atomic-electric,
I state how it should be:
in friendship - the basis of economic,
and in this I do not bring down.
23 - 24 November 1982
and always sings about something.
But the song that's in the throat now bubbling,
not singing her people.
Waiting for the microphone, arching a sensitive nose,
all. You patted - and home.
And someone in the portfolio carries me away
and at night he leans over me.
The spruce paws are asleep under the snow,
behind the wall he turns his wife.
In the green light of a table lamp
he is waking over me, he is not up to sleep.
He will study every letter in me -
separate text, separate subtext,
that to me it is not clear - that he will sound
and will reveal the voice - these, well, "those."
And stretching long and tasty, -
almost plunge into a pleasant laziness.
Now, with a tribute to art, -
to rest. After all, tomorrow is a working day.
And in the morning I will stand before my eyes -
face in a smile, good growth.
(The heart sinks, but not very much.)
A pleasant voice. First question.
"I'm glad to meet you, I've heard a lot,
it's pathetic, it did not happen.
Well, so what happened out there?
Oh no no no? To gray hair.
Are they singing, coming out? Is it worth it, right?
And is this song important for you?
For the truth? Are we against the truth?
The question is - who really needs this! "
And the conversation is pouring down, and the rings are winding,
and the clock is soon six,
you look at the side - friends, and only!
And if you think about it, it is.
Are tied up by business, and it is a lot of!
Does it really penetrate me so much?
at least one of the professionals
(lovers in this game - do not count!)
Again - a collection of works -
sorry, of course, that is not for everyone! -
but without editorial changes -
academic! - in the dossier.
Well, they scolded. I'll shut up for a year
or five - not about this sound!
Time is running out, people are coming
and again on the stage my name is.
On the same, by the way, -
Palace of Ministry of Internal Affairs employees.
And they pay quite, albeit not very much
(but they do not call for anything else).
Well, how intricate
twirled in life - where there's died!
They get me a salary,
and I get mine from them.
And in our century, the atomic-electric,
I state how it should be:
in friendship - the basis of economic,
and in this I do not bring down.
23 - 24 November 1982