Вера Полозкова - Девочка и волк - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I come to A. into the house and feel that I am an old predator who went to the house itself and looks at the owner who came out of the house with a gun, sits and looks, from the darkness, prolonged with phosphorescent pupils. My ear is torn, a long bleeding wound on a belly, a paw with a deep triple scars from a trap and a bald spark in thick wool from combed bites. At the same time, I look straight, not blinking. I would smile if I knew how. The owner puts the gun.

- Who are you today? - asks A.

“I'm a wolf,” I say.

- What is the wolf? - asks A.

“I am a very strong and brave wolf,” I answer.

A. Smiles.

“How did your summer go, wolf?” We did not meet each other in a long time.

- It passed great. I ate, slept, played, fought and ran.

- And what are you doing? - A. frown, trying to touch the wound on his stomach.

I twitch, bounce off him and answer deliberately fun:

- It? It's buulshit. Pressed on a sharp branch.

- It hurt?

- Nope.

- At all?

- Well, a little.

- What do you feel now that you think about this branch?

- That I am grateful to her.

A. lowers his head and sighs heavily.

- And that's it?

- Yes. She taught me to be more visible.

- And what's that? - Asks A., squinting in the ear, but not touching, so as not to scare.

- Freed with a wild dog.

- How do you like your ear now?

- And what, in my opinion, looks cool. Not?

- Yeah. Did you know this dog?

- Yes. We were once in the same pack.

- And now?

- And now I'm a flock for myself.

A. looks in his arms and for some time picks up words.

- Vera, but you are a girl, not a wolf.

- Not.

“But you probably loved this forest, and it hurts you that he treated you so much.”

- I do not care.

“You were happy in this pack, and you regret that you can’t return there.”

- Not at all.

And then I feel that tears are in my throat, but I can’t cry, because I'm still an adult cunning wolf, not a rag.

A. My psychotherapist.

“You understand that until you admit that you are a girl, and you are tired, and you need to cry and make mistakes, you will be a loner for everyone, you will scare the village and hide from people with Drakol. Do you understand this?

- Yes. But crying and mistaken is for wimps.

- What about your paw?

- I got into the trap and sat there for two days. I thought I would die.

- Called to the rescue?

- howl. No one came.

- Who pulled you out?

- Myself.

“But you wanted to come?” Who was supposed to come?

- Friend.

- Why didn't you come?

- Came. Laughed. He poured the ground in the eyes.

“I wanted to take revenge on him when he got out?”

- No, let him live. So he is worse.

“Loved him too much?”

And then I begin to roar, even though it is for weaklings.

Especially for the girl, A. has a pillow, a coffee mug, tears, a warm slow voice and terms. A. comes to the wolf in Kirzachi, a tarpaulin jacket, dug, with eyebrows buried in the sun and shows that it is without weapons.

When I am leaving A., the first five stations on the blue branch I am still a girl, I have tears in the throat, three years of strong love without a result and not a single defender within a radius of five hundred kilometers. Then I’m slowly again a wolf, narrow pupils, and I only want to eat, run and hate, hate and wait for anything.