Текст песни Евгений Сусоров - Иоанн Креститель
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- Отче, что это было?
- Море, сынок.
- Где?
Дюны желтого ила
в подступившей воде
Слепок ступни шершавой
станет купелью для
мидий, медуз и шалой
россыпи рыб.
Я -
Иоанн Креститель прибрежной
галечной полосы.
Ветер, бичуй меня, режь -но
сперва хоть имя спроси.
Я Иоанн. Встречу
ветру иду по волне
Ракушки, как рты Предтечи
раскрыты и жаждут вовне
соленого вкуса Бога,
и я их крещу сплеча
вязью дымка голубого
текущего из "бычка".
Я ждал Того, кто больше
меня. Но он не пришел.
И дня безразмерный дольчик
тянулся... и сколь еще
мне ждать? Затянувшись уныло,
припал губами к воде:
- Отче, что это было?
- Время, сынок.
-Где?
Я ждал мессию Завета,
он здесь мне стрелку забил.
Где ветер, и волны, и это...
латинский термин забыл.
Где днем шебуршатся дети
строя дворцы из песка,
а ночью в рваные сети
проскальзывает рука
Полнолуния. Видел
чьи-то следы у камней -
но утром их ветер вытер
подползши, как пес, ко мне
спящему, и простодыро
вылизал мне лицо.
- Ветер, что это было?
- Ангел, сынок.
- И все?!
Днем здесь бывают люди.
Пальцами тычут в меня.
На солнцем расплавленном блюде
чертят свои имена.
Они говорят: "Мессии
не ходят к таким, как ты"
И жжет мои пятки босые
сознание их правоты.
Но я Иоанн Креститель,
любящий свою плоть.
Кому дан приказ грести, те
и в немощи правят плот -
К пропахшей мазутом лодке,
спящей дырявым дном
вверх. Где, хитрый, как Локи,
кабздох с белесым пятном
на холке - давится рыбой,
косясь на мои следы.
Где небо Третьего Рима
глядит в себя из воды,
глядит и надменно гладит
браду кучевых облаков...
Где я среди скудной клади
листаю томик стихов,
дымя коротким окурком
и щурясь на яркий свет -
Предтеча в замшевой куртке,
купленной с рук в Москве.
- Father, what was it?
- Sea, son.
- Where?
Dunes of yellow silt
In the approaching water
The cast of the foot is rough
will become a font for
mussels, jellyfish and shawl
placers of fish.
I -
John the Baptist Coastal
pebble strip.
Wind, beat me, cut it -but
At least ask the name at least.
I am John. Meeting
I go to the wind in the wave
Shells like the mouth of the forerunner
revealed and thirsty outside
the salty taste of God,
and I baptize them splash
Blue haze of blue
current from the "bull".
I was waiting for the one who is more
me. But he did not come.
And day dimensionless share
stretched ... and how else
Should I wait? Tighten dullly
He fell with his lips to the water:
- Father, what was it?
- Time, son.
-Where?
I was waiting for the Messiah of the Covenant,
He scored an arrow here.
Where is the wind, and the waves, and this ...
The Latin term forgot.
Where children are whispering during the day
Building sand palaces,
And at night to torn nets
The hand slips
Full moon. Saw
someone's traces of stones -
But in the morning their wind wiped
Sleep like a dog, to me
sleeping, and a simple
He licked my face.
- Wind, what was it?
- Angel, son.
- And all?!
There are people here during the day.
They poke their fingers in me.
In the sun of the molten dish
Draw their names.
They say: "Messiah
Do not go to people like you "
And my heels burns barefoot
The consciousness of their rightness.
But I am John the Baptist,
Loving his flesh.
Who is given an order to row, those
And in weakness they rule the raft -
To a boat smeared with fuel oil,
Sleeping with a holey bottom
up. Where, cunning, like Loki,
cab
on the withers - chokes in fish,
Sowing on my tracks.
Where is the sky of the Third Rome
Looks into himself from the water
looks and strokes arrogantly
mash of cumulus clouds ...
Where am I am in the middle of meager luggage
I leaf through a volume of poems,
Smoke short cigarette butt
And squinting at the bright light -
The forerunner in the suede jacket,
bought from the hands in Moscow.
- Sea, son.
- Where?
Dunes of yellow silt
In the approaching water
The cast of the foot is rough
will become a font for
mussels, jellyfish and shawl
placers of fish.
I -
John the Baptist Coastal
pebble strip.
Wind, beat me, cut it -but
At least ask the name at least.
I am John. Meeting
I go to the wind in the wave
Shells like the mouth of the forerunner
revealed and thirsty outside
the salty taste of God,
and I baptize them splash
Blue haze of blue
current from the "bull".
I was waiting for the one who is more
me. But he did not come.
And day dimensionless share
stretched ... and how else
Should I wait? Tighten dullly
He fell with his lips to the water:
- Father, what was it?
- Time, son.
-Where?
I was waiting for the Messiah of the Covenant,
He scored an arrow here.
Where is the wind, and the waves, and this ...
The Latin term forgot.
Where children are whispering during the day
Building sand palaces,
And at night to torn nets
The hand slips
Full moon. Saw
someone's traces of stones -
But in the morning their wind wiped
Sleep like a dog, to me
sleeping, and a simple
He licked my face.
- Wind, what was it?
- Angel, son.
- And all?!
There are people here during the day.
They poke their fingers in me.
In the sun of the molten dish
Draw their names.
They say: "Messiah
Do not go to people like you "
And my heels burns barefoot
The consciousness of their rightness.
But I am John the Baptist,
Loving his flesh.
Who is given an order to row, those
And in weakness they rule the raft -
To a boat smeared with fuel oil,
Sleeping with a holey bottom
up. Where, cunning, like Loki,
cab
on the withers - chokes in fish,
Sowing on my tracks.
Where is the sky of the Third Rome
Looks into himself from the water
looks and strokes arrogantly
mash of cumulus clouds ...
Where am I am in the middle of meager luggage
I leaf through a volume of poems,
Smoke short cigarette butt
And squinting at the bright light -
The forerunner in the suede jacket,
bought from the hands in Moscow.