Текст песни Геннадий Викторович Жуков - Речитатив о ночном выпасе

... When he awoke , I said, damn tramways !
                                                (Gennady )

... Night starless cast right hand echoing bowl lies on the sockets.
I will kindle a match - it gets easier , better! - Identification torch misguided ...

Black sky all muffled , all below. Lamb in burnt red
trembles between hand and heart, as dutar deck , then to the heart bruised ,
if Sore wound cling frantically , then tremble and rush away.
And is calling , and the haughty mist is calling : Where is my mother ? Who is my mother ?
Went to the flock sunset . Night.

Night echoing bowl covered orbit. My horse umyknuli spring steppe -
herbal infused drunk blood - mare ! Do not touch me , lamb ...
I've had enough of the shepherd ... Do not touch me , lamb quiet ! Do not touch .
Went to the flock sunset . Lying in the thyme as a piece of a centaur . Horse threw me .

In general, a simple matter. Dropped as the head - body. The burden of his head , my burden .

This straying flock I - shepherd blind . Oh , take me , my clan -
tram tribe! I am here from the city. I am here outcast.
Woe ! Not that the wet loshazhey back - galloping ,
on the run - I'm on the steppes of the violent sitting I can not!
Woe ... Wheels - worthy laurels ! - And many of the summer on the wheel of the Centaurs
horses and poets. And live. Already eternity live odne ,
in the dim and vague kinship fault.

My friend, brother , if it becomes unbearable horse , the horse will take your -
You will not find another horse . My friend, brother , if sink flock to sunset -
herd goes around - comes around the same a night . A night - any DIG ! - Meet backward,
as a city in ruins. All revertible - in a circle around the rim - everything!
And the fate of the wheel. And the history of the wheel. Only in freedom four shapely legs .
And love - and that something - only wings burnt .

Do not touch me , the lamb is quiet, do not touch .
Lamb of light , to fly - there, beyond the deep of the night, the fire!
There's magic circle outlined in the hills -
There babbles fire seven languages.
There shepherd , like a shepherd 's staff , big-nosed ,
From the tube sucks Sipatov grown tobacco .
There shepherd boy in the palm of your hand clamped ember -
That I bruised my heart ashes cauterized .
Say to them, I hear - the grass grows in my back .
Say to them, I know - I have no legs .
Tell him to give me back my precious half.
Horse I - timid , like the wings of inspiration ! -
Horse to me. Poltela give for the horse !