Vladimir Vysotsky
Do not write poetry to me and novels,
Do not read fiction in the corner -
I'm in the ward of addicts,
I feel I'll sit on the needle myself.
Someone treated wound wounds,
Someone so provided the rear ...
Oh, you, my boys are loving highs,
Quickly get off the needle!
In the soul of my doubts have sunk,
In the head of the questions I drill -
I'm in a room where I've been swallowed,
Sniffed, chop everything.
Someone so healed his soul,
Someone just stayed alone ...
Oh, you guys, drop morphine -
Go to apomorphine!
Near an unknown schizophrenic -
In it, secretly the nurse is in love -
He says: "When there is not enough money -
I'll go over the vodka.
Someone there pierced his conscience,
Someone in the heart ate anasha ...
Oh, you guys, you need a story about you,
Only - I do not write stories.
Urgent need of change!
Our most cheerful also wilted.
The fifth day someone is looking for a vein,
They will not find him - he has not used to them.
Someone even sniffed cocaine -
They say that it is an instant arrival;
Someone ate a kilogram of codeine -
And he let himself into the expense of the day.
I love the indigent, but not drunk,
I love desperate guys.
I'm in the room of addicts -
How much I heard here, in it!
Someone drives cubes in his hand,
Someone even eats strong tungsten ...
Voluntarily accepting anguish,
This song is written to you!
1969