Lyrics Монахов. - Вечерело в полях...
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Затихали бои, а в сердцах ещё долго гроза
Громыхала, точнее сказать, в тех навеки осталась,
Там, где были лишь только свои, я бы даже сказал,
Только братья!.. Ведь ближе с тех пор никого не встречалось.
Вечерело в полях, в них такая стояла теплынь,
Что хотелось в объятьях душить эту землю без края
И упасть в эту синь, и пропасть!.. Лишь седая полынь
От июня того пролегла аж до самого мая,
И бродили мы в них до утра, опьянев от росы,
Как когда-то мальчишки — босые, по пояс раздеты…
Нам примятые травы простили бы точно отцы,
Тоже знавшие цену, какой та досталась Победа!..
Мы дарили друг другу такие охапки цветов,
И за это, признаться, ни капли там не было стыдно,
Где из женского полу – одна лишь война, но любовь…
С ней до рвоты устали крутить эти, парень, мужчины!..
Даже лес… на его на берёзовых белых стволах,
Как на наших телах, расцвели её чёрные метки...
Сколько тех ещё мин — в этих — ведает только Аллах,
Оставалось ржаветь, где разрывы не так уж и редки...
Мы тогда поклялись ещё не нарушать тишины,
Разговаривать шёпотом только — беречь, как зеницу,
И дымился костёр, разметав неспокойные сны
На рябые от ветра, мужские суровые лица.
Лишь на том на краю — там уже занималась заря
Цвета крови — такой же, как в этих полях проливали,
Чтоб начать всё, опять же, с полей... Чтоб начать всё с нуля
Там, где многое можно простить, но забудешь едва ли!..
«Вечерело в полях...» 2016 год. сентябрь..
Fights calmed down, and in the hearts a thunderstorm for a long time
She rumbled, more precisely, in those forever remained,
Where there were only mine, I would even say
Only the brothers! .. After all, no one has encountered no one closer since then.
It was evening in the fields, in them there was such a warmth,
That I wanted to strangle this land in the arms without a edge
And fall into this blue, and the abyss! .. Only gray wormwood
From June she sample until May,
And we wandered in them until the morning, intoxiaev from dew,
As the boys once-barefoot, undressed to the waist ...
The crushed herbs would have forgiven us for sure fathers,
Also knew the price, what kind of victory was that! ..
We gave each other such armfuls of flowers,
And for this, I admit, not a drop was ashamed there,
Where from the female floor is one war, but love ...
With her to vomiting, they are tired of twist these, guy, men! ..
Even a forest ... on his birch white trunks,
As on our bodies, her black marks blossomed ...
How many more mines - in these - only Allah knows,
It remained to rust, where the gaps are not so rare ...
We then vowed not to violate the silence,
Talking with a whisper only - to protect like a zenitsa,
And the bonfire smoked, scrapping troubled dreams
To the rippled from the wind, male harsh faces.
Only on the edge - Dawn was already engaged there already
Blood colors - the same as in these fields spilled,
To start everything, again, from the fields ... to start everything from scratch
Where much can be forgiven, but you will hardly forget! ..
"Evening in the fields ..." 2016. September..
She rumbled, more precisely, in those forever remained,
Where there were only mine, I would even say
Only the brothers! .. After all, no one has encountered no one closer since then.
It was evening in the fields, in them there was such a warmth,
That I wanted to strangle this land in the arms without a edge
And fall into this blue, and the abyss! .. Only gray wormwood
From June she sample until May,
And we wandered in them until the morning, intoxiaev from dew,
As the boys once-barefoot, undressed to the waist ...
The crushed herbs would have forgiven us for sure fathers,
Also knew the price, what kind of victory was that! ..
We gave each other such armfuls of flowers,
And for this, I admit, not a drop was ashamed there,
Where from the female floor is one war, but love ...
With her to vomiting, they are tired of twist these, guy, men! ..
Even a forest ... on his birch white trunks,
As on our bodies, her black marks blossomed ...
How many more mines - in these - only Allah knows,
It remained to rust, where the gaps are not so rare ...
We then vowed not to violate the silence,
Talking with a whisper only - to protect like a zenitsa,
And the bonfire smoked, scrapping troubled dreams
To the rippled from the wind, male harsh faces.
Only on the edge - Dawn was already engaged there already
Blood colors - the same as in these fields spilled,
To start everything, again, from the fields ... to start everything from scratch
Where much can be forgiven, but you will hardly forget! ..
"Evening in the fields ..." 2016. September..