Текст песни Станислав Еленский - ЗАТЯНУВШАЯСЯ НОЧЬ В ГОРОДЕ BIG NIGHT ON THE TOWN - POEM BY CHARLES BUKOWSKI
- Исполнитель: Станислав Еленский
- Название песни: ЗАТЯНУВШАЯСЯ НОЧЬ В ГОРОДЕ BIG NIGHT ON THE TOWN - POEM BY CHARLES BUKOWSKI
- Дата добавления: 10.12.2021 | 18:35:01
- Просмотров: 146
- 0 чел. считают текст песни верным
- 0 чел. считают текст песни неверным
Текст песни
Поддатый. На мрачных улицах города N.Ночь. Забытье.
Где комнатушка твоя?
Заходишь в бар, ища самого себя,
заказываешь скотч и воду.
Долбаные бары-мокрощелки. Их дрянь
частично впитывается в рукава одежды.
Скотч разбадяжен.
Мерзкий притон.
Заказываешь пиво...
Мамзель - Смерть проходит мимо
в вечернем платье. Пристраивается рядом.
Очередной заказ пива...
От нее несет тиной.
Она тычет своим коленом промеж твоих.
Бармен лыбится, волнуется,
не просекает кто ты: мусор, убийца, еб***ый,
или просто идиот.
Заказываешь водку
и вливаешь ее
в свое пиво.
В час ночи в этом мертвецки запуганном мире
узнаешь у Смерти, что с твоей башкой,
т.к. пьешь все, что можно пить...
а все на вкус, как машинное масло.
Затем пошлешь ее
и придурка-бармена.
Поскольку вспомнишь где твоя конура
с комодом, набитым винами.
С плясками тараканов.
В этом совершенстве фанерной дряни,
смеясь когда-то сдохла любовь.
перевод: Станислав Еленский
Big Night On The Town - Poem by Charles Bukowski
drunk on the dark streets of some city,
it's night, you're lost, where's your
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar's sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt
sleeves.
It's a clip joint-the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame Death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you've got him worried, he doesn't
know if you're a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
Idiot.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It's one a.m. In a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.
you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.
you have remembered where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
roaches.
Perfection in the Star Turd
where love died
laughing.
Перевод песни
Screwy. On the gloomy streets of N.Night. Forgetting.
Where is your little room?
You walk into a bar looking for yourself
you order scotch tape and water.
Fucking wet bars. Their rubbish
partially absorbed into the sleeves of clothing.
The scotch tape is loose.
Disgusting hangout.
You order a beer ...
Mamzel - Death passes by
in an evening dress. Is attached next to.
Another order of beer ...
She smells like ooze.
She jabs her knee between yours.
The bartender is smiling, worried
does not cut through who you are: trash, killer, fucking,
or just an idiot.
You order vodka
and pour it in
into your beer.
At one o'clock in the morning in this deadly terrified world
you will learn from Death what is wrong with your head,
since you drink everything you can drink ...
and everything tastes like machine oil.
Then send her
and the jerk bartender.
Since you will remember where your kennel is
with a chest of drawers full of wines.
With dances of cockroaches.
In this perfection of plywood trash
Laughing love once died.
translation: Stanislav Yelensky
Big Night On The Town - Poem by Charles Bukowski
drunk on the dark streets of some city,
it's night, you're lost, where's your
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar's sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt
sleeves.
It's a clip joint-the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you've got him worried, he doesn't
know if you're a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
Idiot.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It's one a.m. In a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.
you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.
you have remembered where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
roaches.
Perfection in the star turd
where love died
laughing.