Текст песни Сергей Садовников - Иосиф Бродский - Бабочка

I

Say that you're dead ?
But you just lived day.
How many shadows in a joke
 Creator! barely
 I can say
" lived " - Unity of date
 birthday and when you
 in my handfuls
 crumbled , I
 confuses subtract
 one of the two quantities
 within day.

II

Then the days for us -
nothing . only
 nothing . They are not prikolesh ,
and food Eye
 do not they
 on white background ,
not having a body
invisible . days
they like you ; rather,
that can weigh
 reduced tenfold
 one of these days ?

III

Saying that does not
 you? But what
 in my hand so similar
 with you? and color -
not the fruit of nothingness.
On whose tip
 and so placed paint ?
Hardly I
muttering lump
 words , alien color,
imagine this would
 palette could .

IV

On the wings of your
 pupils, eyelashes -
Is beauty , birds -
whose fragments ,
tell me this persons
portrait of a volatile ?
Which , tell your case
 particles , grains
 is still life :
things , whether the fruit ?
and even fishing
 trophy stretched out .

V

Did you - landscape,
and , taking a magnifying glass
I found a group of
 nymphs, dancing , beach.
Is there light as day ?
il there sadly,
as night? and shone
 what it
 rose in the sky ?
whose figure in it ?
Tell me, how nature
 it was made ?

VI

I think you -
and then , and this :
star , persons subject
 features in you .
Who was the jeweler,
that eyebrow frown ,
struck in miniature
 them a world
that drives us crazy ,
takes us in a pincer movement ,
where do you like the idea of ​​things
we - the thing itself .

VII

Tell me, why pattern
 such was the Duden
 you just one day
 in the land of lakes
amalgam whose future use
 store space ?
And you deprive chance
 such a short period
 get into the net,
tremble in his hands ,
at the time of the chase
 capture the pupil.

VIII

You did not answer me
 not because
 shyness and
 from evil, and do not
 then you're dead .
Alive, dead, whether -
but every creature of God
 as a sign of kinship
 voice for granted
 Communication, singing :
extension moments ,
minute of the day .

IX

And you - you are deprived
 this pledge.
But , speaking strictly ,
so better: on
 hell do be in heaven
 in debt in the registry.
Do not Mourn Well, if
 your age , your weight
 worthy of Silence :
sound - the same burden.
Disembodied than the time
you silently .

X

Not feeling , not
 before the age of fear
you veshsya easier ashes
 over a flowerbed outside
 similar prison
 with its suffocation
 the past with the future ,
because
 when you fly on meadow
 wanting to poop
takes the form
 the air itself suddenly .

XI

So does the pen,
sliding on the surface of
 rascherchennoy notebooks
not knowing about
 the fate of his line ,
where wisdom heresy
 mixed , but the trust
 shock hands
whose fingers beating it
 quite dumb ,
not removing dust from the flower ,
but the weight from your shoulders.

XII

such beauty
 and such a short period ,
Connect , guess
 curve of mouth:
not express more clearly ,
in fact,
 the world was created without purpose,
and if it ,
then the goal - not us.
Each entomologist ,
for there is no light needles
 and not for the darkness.

XIII

Tell you " Goodbye "?
as a form of day?
there are people whose minds
 zoster shingles
 oblivion ; but look :
to blame
 only that their backs
 they did not days
 with a bed for two,
no dreams of the Dark ,
not the past - but the clouds
 your sisters !

XIV

You're better than nothing.
Verneuil you closer
 and more visible . inside
 one hundred percent
 you are akin to him.
In your flight
 it reached the flesh ;
because
 you're in the commotion day
 worth a look
 as light barrier
 between him and me.