another bottle of cheap cognac
another faceless, useless day, bye
a bright glare on the glass bottom, will become my guiding star
and you, my friend, don't just stand there, smile and more lei lei lei
drink drink drink drink with me
you smell this predawn smell,
Neva mud, and tobacco, and fumes, and in secret
the river whispers in waves to your hands,
that you lost, fool, brandy lover.
I still have some bank notes
in the back pocket of my jeans, I got out of bed
and immediately went to the store, as for a holiday
took a check of cognac, stuck it in his bosom
and began to wander around the city
how wonderful. Peter Uber Alles
yesterday we were cleaning up with friends as a drunk again, and now I smile
the same ruddy face. salute to all the guys,
that they start the morning with wine or something stronger
luscious bitterness tickles the liver and hot
spreads all over the body and flows in streams down the cheeks
I wipe it with the sleeve of my jacket
my whole clique smokes whitefish and loves to drink,
but my whole clique is saving up for concerts in the mariinsky
my whole clique knows love - only in books, we used to drink
and we take another liter of cognac
and let us not fucking stand, but nevertheless
we are chasing aloud to Evtukh Evgeny and Purgenev
a new era of timelessness has come and today is in full swing
and we behave badly like Lyokha Panin with friends
I rush from up town to down town,
inhaling drunken intoxication, getting into the very mosh in zany bars
I hit some guy in the face, because he looks like
on the one who stole my baby from me
but in my face, hinting that I'm wrong,
two hits immediately arrive too
two fucking tough guys kick me in the stomach
while I, hunched over, coughing up blood onto the dance floor, I have a day off.
it looks like, but I hear the flashing lights of the cops, and everyone scattered around
somewhere. and I, past temples and clubs, bars and libraries, and tenements,
sweating all over from head to toe and panting, he ran to the embankment
and washed his face with water from the Neva.
and you smell this predawn smell
fume and ooze and waves whisper in secret
to your broken hands that you lost again. as then,
but you look into the distance with a clearing gaze,
and mouth with caked blood in the corners
you smile
