Ракета Для Поэта [Raketa Dlya Poeta] [English translation]

Nookie:

Feelings of incompleteness

Looking through the window hopelessly

And time runs too fast

And trains went, went, went

Cache:

Ideas, thrombus sewed to the text

Will scatter as ashes, explode like a bomb

Schemes won't help finish a poem

And this is a problem, head is full of catacombs

Atom is to big

To be the thirteenth fragrance

And flat moon is driving crazy with her empty face

Chorus:

You hear that somewhere, a rocket flies

By the end of the plot there may be no poet anymore

A human doesn't even have a century

And plot will always be one verse few

Nookie:

Not good - spring, exasperation

I'll die - meh - doesn't matter

Universe out my head

As poems will live, live, live

Cache:

Med cotton, and this white room is bit small

Even though there is only one nurse, not two

In the cell they were giving me medicine

Seldom said words were noted as apt

I was making notes on label

Morning, I'm like I was writing this nonsense

There's no sense, sense is gone somewhere

And this is just a quote, notebook lying crumpled in the corner

What date is it?

Chorus:

You hear that somewhere, a rocket flies

By the end of the plot there may be no poet anymore

A human doesn't even have a century

And plot will always be one verse few

So painful to watch and be unable to touch

Bloody battle with yourself and sempiternal stalemate

You can neither run nor find a rest

Grenade without pin. Diagnosis: psychopath

bridge

Somewhere, a rocket flies

By the end of the plot there may be no poet anymore

A human doesn't even have a century

And plot will always be one verse few

Cache:

And after poetry nature calmed down

After the summer that had never been fully sang

People have started looking for answers in notes

Of the poet, who is no more

Analyse it and sort explosions of mind

And trembles of heart by numbered shelves

But this doesn't matter anymore...

It is like trying to sort out alive hedgehog by his barbed needles