Текст песни Злищев А. - Месяц блестит рогами

A month shines with horns,
Dear, heavenly plow:
"You, with your verses
You look stupid, friend.

You drink, they say, horribly.
Conscience sold for a penny.
He smeared his soul in soot,
Like a lone bum.

Your youth is beautiful
She passed you by.
You're a bachelor,
And neither a stake nor a yard.

Throw yourself your couplets,
Take care of your business, you fool.
Word is forged by poets
In the forge of their hearts.

I'm not laughing, but crying.
Darling, do not lie to yourself.
You, like a thin nag,
Yes, in someone else's yard. "

Autumn section grove.
Fuzzy snow is falling.
I'm watching it easier
Life is a harsh run.

I need nothing.
Is that eternal May.
Echoed in my front door
The old man groans in February.

I know that I'm not a genius,
I know the dream limit.
Many people and opinions,
Few sensible cases.

In this gray frost
The house is my rest.
Legs do not rub against the soul,
I do not beat mug in the pub.

I do not drop piles,
And I'm not lying at the bottom.
Grief does not sink in vodka,
There is no joy in wine.

He pulls a little to the house.
Poplar my rare wilts.
Sadly chewing straw
In the old shed an ox.

All this is my own,
All this is close to me.
I do not want the past
Stood the stone in the Neva.

I do not want to be annoyed
Life edge on the edge.
Echoed in my front door
The curly May cries.

Alexander Zlishchev "A month shines with horns"