Раз-два-три, ветер изменится - Глава 5 отрывок 6 - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

In the mass graves, no one feels lonely, no one feels abandoned or abandoned: a layer by a layer of young men is laid on each other so that even after death they can extend their hands and feel a person nearby.

My dead also do not want to be lonely. They do not lie with me because they want to take revenge - they are scared and cold. They stroke my stomach and sometimes kiss me on the shoulder when I fall asleep. They smell poorly from their mouths, they do not have delicate silky skin, their bodies are covered with blue decomposition blots, but no one is perfect. We all have their own shortcomings, so it seems to me.

The only dark spot in this almost romantic connection between me and death is my nightmares. I always thought that “ice sweat”, “beaten breath”, “heart jumping out of the chest” are terrifying cliches for those who are unable to come up with a beautiful speech circulation. But in August 1969, I have a unique opportunity to test the clarity and conciseness of these epithets.

I dream of the beach.

I dream like one of the guys laughs at my joke and holds out my hand, pulling his knee -deep into the sea. I dream about how I stand in cold water, smile happily, and then, bending over to correct my jeans, I see my face.

The face is under water, you understand. Such an ordinary face, with black eye sockets and a skewed mouth. The face that reaches for me from under the water and, most likely, does not want me to be evil, but only I still wake up from my own scream and peer into the darkness of the ceiling for a long time, distinguishing his album.

I am afraid not so much that my fingers will fall into the hole of this face and I will lose my last hope to write a symphony, I'm not particularly afraid that a person may have a continuation in the form of a neck, arms, legs, how much I am afraid that the main function Faces - watch and speak.

I am tormented by the fact that no one comes to my house and does not blame me for what happened.

After all, I killed them - all three, all three, killed even more, only the police had not yet found them, because they are already my finished work, and before that such a long period of paperwork. It’s not immediately to hang out what thickness to put a smear, what basis to take, primer the canvas or not - it is necessary to practice, very long practice.

And I killed all three, all three, and now they will always be with me, and then, maybe I will send them to National Museum, and people will come to watch. People will come to look at my work, look at me.

I killed three, before them - three more, and before that - three more.

And now I get out of bed and put on and take off my slippers three times. Now I open three times and close the door to go to another room. Three times my cup. Three times my hands. Fasten and unfasten the belt three times.

After all, I killed three - and I will kill three more, and I need to honor their memory over and over again.