high disease – Boris Pasternak

Flashes moving puzzle,
It goes siege, coming days,
Months and summers go by.
One fine day pickets,
Knocking down from running around,
Bring the message: fortress for rent.
Do not believe, believe, burn lights,
Blow up the vaults, looking for an entrance,
Come out, are included, coming days,
Months and years go by.
Years go by, everything is in the shade.
The Trojan Epic is born.
Do not believe, believe, burn lights,
Eagerly awaiting divorce,
Weaken, go blind, coming days,
And the vaults are crumbling in the fortress.

I am ashamed and ashamed day by day,
What in the age of such shadows
High one disease
The song is also called.
Is it a song to call sodom,
Learned with difficulty
The ground, thrown from books
On lances and on a bayonet.
Hell is paved with good intentions.
Set eyes,
What if you pave the verses with them,
All sins will be forgiven.
All this cuts the ear of silence,
Returned from the war,
And how is this rumor strained,
Learned in the days of devastation.

In those days, passion fell on everyone
To stories, and winter nights
I didn't get tired of spinning with lice,
How horses spin with their ears.
Then the quiet darkness stirred
Snow-covered ears,
And we rushed about with fairy tales
On mint gingerbread pillows.

Upholstered theater boxes
A shiver took over in the spring.
February became poor and unkempt.
Used to, grunt, coughing up blood,
And will spit, and go quietly
Whisper in your ear
About that, about the way, about sleepers,
About the thaw, about anything;
About that, how did they walk from the front.

You are already asleep, and you wait for death,
Grief is not enough for the storyteller:
In buckets of thawed galoshes
Lies entangled in the truth
Body louse swallows
And I didn't get tired of spinning with my ears.
Though the dawn thistle,
Trying to chase away the shadow longer,
Stretched with difficulty the same
Her watch, as soon as I could;
Though, как встарь, lane attracted,
To soak again on the loam
And carry along the poles and lay down;
Although the autumn vault, like today,
Was clothed, and the forest is far away,
And the evening is cold and smoky,
However, it was a forgery.,
And a dream taken by surprise
The earth looked like a parent,
To death, to the silence of cemeteries,
To that special silence,
What is sleeping, enveloping the whole district,
AND, shuddering every now and then,
Recall struggles: "What, I mean,
I just wanted to say?»
Though, like before, ceiling,
Supporting the new stand,
Dragged the second floor to the third
And the fifth to the sixth portage,
Inspiring a change of background,
That everything is still in the world,
However, it was a forgery.,
And on the water supply network
Climbed up that empty,
Sucking scream of trouble,
the, burnt newspaper,
The stench of laurel and Chinese soy,
What was more boring, than these rhymes,
AND, standing a mile in the air,
As if muttering: "What, I mean, постой,
I had to eat today in the subject?»
And crawling hungry worm
From the second floor to the third,
And sneaked from the fifth to the sixth.
He praised firmness and stagnation
And the softness declared in the ban.
What to do? The sound disappeared
Behind the rumble of the rising skies.

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Korney Chukovsky