Lyrics Александр Блок - Поэма 12

Black evening.
     White snow.
     Wind, wind!
     A man is not standing on his feet.
     Wind, wind -
     In all God's light!

     Wind curls
     White snow.
     Under the snow - ice.
     Slippery, hard,
     Every walker
     It slips - ah, poor thing!

     From building to building
     Pass the rope.
     On the rope - poster:
     "All power to the Constituent Assembly!"
     The old woman is killed - she cries,
     I just do not understand what it means,
     On what such a poster,
     Such a huge flap?
     How many quizzes would come out for the guys,
     And everyone - naked, rauzut ...
     The old woman, like a chicken,
     Coy-like rewrote through a snowdrift.
     "Oh, Mother Intercession!"
     "Oh, the Bolsheviks will be driven into the coffin!"

     The wind is biting!
     Do not fall behind and frost!
     And the bourgeois at the crossroads
     The collar hid his nose.

     And who is this? - Long hair
     And he says in a low voice:
     "Traitors!"
     "Russia has been killed!" -
     Must be a writer -
     Vitia ...

     And there is a long -
     Side by side - for a snowdrift ...
     What is now sad,
     Comrade priest?

     Do you remember how it happened?
     The belly went forward,
     And the cross shone
     The belly on the people? ..

     Vaughn lady in astrakhan
     She turned to the other:
     "We cried, we cried ..."
     Slipped
     And - bang - stretched out!

     Aw, ai!
     Pull, puff up!

     The wind is cheerful
     And angry and happy.
     Twists the hem,
     Passers-by mows,
     Rings, knocks and carries
     Large poster:
     "All power to the Constituent Assembly" ...
     And he says:

     ... And we had a meeting ...
     ... Here in this building ...
     ... Discussed -
     Resolved:
     For a while - ten, on the night - twenty-five ...
     ... And less - no one to take ...
     ...Let's go to sleep...

     Late evening.
     The street is emptying.
     One tramp
     She stoops,
     Let the wind whistle ...

     Hey, poor fellow!
     Approach -
     Let's kiss ...

     Of bread!
     What lies ahead?
     Come on in! "

     Black, black sky.

     Malice, sad anger
     Boils in the chest ...
     Black anger, holy anger ...

     Comrade! Look
     Both!

     The wind blows, the snow flutters.
     Twelve people are coming.

     Rifles black belts,
     Around - lights, lights, lights ...

     In the teeth - a cigarette, a cap,
     On the back would be a diamond ace!

     Freedom, freedom,
     Eh, oh, without a cross!

     Tra-ta-ta!

     It's cold, comrade, it's cold!

     - And Vanka and Katya are in the tavern ...
     "She's got kerosks in her stocking!"

     "Vanyusha himself is rich now ..."
     - Was our Vanka, and became a soldier!

     "Well, Vanka, son of a bitch, a bourgeois,
     Mine, try, kiss!

     Freedom, freedom,
     Eh, oh, without a cross!
     Katka with Vanka is busy -
     Than what is busy? ..

     Tra-ta-ta!

     Around - lights, lights, lights ...
     Shoulder - rifle straps ...

     Revolutionary keep a step!
     Restless is not slumbering the enemy!

     Comrade, hold the rifle, do not be afraid!
     We're shooting a bullet in Holy Russia -

     In the condominium,
     In a battered,
     In the thick-scared!

     Eh, oh, without a cross!