%==================================== {\rm HUMOROUS POETRY} D3.04 $I3''$ Tanya, studentka 5k KGPI, 21g (r.1959) (iz bloknota). Svyatozero, Kareliya, avgust 1980; Kuznechik Na Muromskoj dorozhen'ke Chemu-to ochen' rad Sidel kuznechik malen'kij Kolenkami nazad On rad, chto svetit solnyshko On rad, chto zelen sad, Chto on takoj zel\enen'kij Kolenkami nazad Nash\el sebe podruzhen'ku, Ne devka, prosto klad Takaya zhe zel\enaya Kolenkami nazad I vot sygrali svadebku 120 dnej podryad Vse gosti raspolzalisya Kolenkami nazad I vot poshli detishechki 17 shtuk podryad Takie zhe zel\enye Kolenkami nazad (A.Orlov, 1976: Posh\el po restoranam on, Pil vodku, limonad, Domoyu vozvrawalsya on Kolenkami nazad. I vot na partsobraniyah Vse lyudi govoryat: Moral'no razlozhilsya on Kolenkami nazad!) %=================================== {\rm HUMOROUS POETRY} D3.04 $I3''$ Tanya, KGPI senior, 21 (b.1959) (from her notebook). Svyatozero, Kareliya, August 1980; and Grasshopper On the Murom Road Very glad about something A grasshopper was sitting With his knees bent backwards. He's glad that the sun's shining, That the garden is green, That he is so green, With his knees bent backwards. He found a girlfriend, Not a girl, but a treasure, As green as he, With her knees bent backwards. The wedding lasted 120 days, The guests crawled away With their knees bent backwards. They got so many children, 17 in a row, As green as them, With their knees bent backwards. (A. Orlov, 1976: He went out to the restaurants, Drunk vodka, lemonade, And returned home With his knees bent backwards. And now, at the Party meetings Everyone's saying: He is morally corrupt, With his knees bent backwards!) %================================== {\rm POETRY OF TEENAGERS} T1.15 $A4w=$ Gena Butorin, 25l (r.1952) Ae`rogeologiya, r.Sev. Uj Iyul' 1977 Yarko zvezdy goryat, s\-horonyas' za listvoyu Po doroge v Tehas edut troe kovboev Vdrug oni ogon\ek na puti uvidali E`to byl kabachok odnoglazogo Garri. Troe slezli s konej, sapogi podtyanuli I popraviv nozhi, v kabachok zaglyanuli Yarko svetit luna, viski l'\etsya rekoyu A v uglu za stolom tri ustalyh kovboya. Razdalsya stuk kopyt, stuk kopyt, zvon gitary Po dveri razdalis' gromovye udary Vhodit banda rebyat, chelovek vosemnadcat' I kovboyam oni predlagayut ubrat'sya. "Budem viski my pit', my rebyata lihie I ne lyubim kogda nam meshayut drugie". Shest' priwurennyh glaz iz-pod shlyapy sverknuli, Tri korotkih nozha v polumrake blesnuli. Zavyazalas' reznya, potekla krov' rekoyu I kak tigry dralis' tri ustalyh kovboya. Yarko svetit luna, s\-horonyas' za listvoyu Po doroge v Tehas uskakali kovboi. %================================ {\rm THE POETRY OF TEENAGERS} T1.15 $A4w=$ Gena Butorin, 25 (b.1952) Airgeology, r.Northern Uj July 1977 The stars're shining bright, hidden behind the leaves Three cowboys ride along the way to Texas They noticed a light by the road That was the single-eyed Harry's pub. Three cowboys got off their horses, dragged up their boots Adjusted their knives and visited the pub The moon is shining, whiskey flows like a river Three tired cowboys sit by the table in the corner A sudden clatter of hooves, a guitar jingling, Knocks at the door sounding like thunder, A gang of eighteen enter the pub And suggest that the cowboys clear out: "We'll drink whiskey, we're tough guys, We don't like to be hindered by others." Six squinted eyes flashed from under the hats Three short knives shone in the darkness A fight started, blood flowed like a river, Three tired cowboys fought like tigers The moon's shining bright, hidden behind the leaves, Three cowboys galloped off by the Texas road. %=============================== {\rm COMMON POETRY} T1.39 $C4$ Volodya Markitanov, rabochij, 27l (r.1950) Ae`rogeologiya, r.Sev. Uj konec avgusta 1977 Ch\ernuyu rozu -- e`mblemu pechali Poslednij podarok, ty mne prepodn\es I dolgo-dolgo v razdumii stoyali Kak plakat' hotelos'... No ne bylo sl\ez. Tak pust' zhe rydayut i plachut cygane Cyganskij plach -- pogrebal'nyj zvon Minulo vs\e... Ty lyubish' drugogo Ostalsya lish' tol'ko obmanchivyj son. V orkestre sygrali dva saksa i skripka Usnul polup'yanyj nochnoj restoran Na pamyat' ostalis' uvyadshie rozy I tvoj nedopityj s shampanskim bokal. Tak plach', koli plachesh' nad ch\ernoj gordynej Licom utknuvshis' v golubuyu vual' I pust', izvergayas', sverkayut rubiny Nikto ne pojm\et tvoyu, detka, pechal'. %====================================== {\rm COMMON POETRY} T1.39 $C4$ Volodya Markitanov, worker, b.1950 Airgeology, r. Northern Uj August, 1977 A black rose, a symbol of sorrow, You gave me as the last present And we stood deeply thoughtful Wanting to weep, but without tears So let gipsies sob and cry, Gipsies' crying is like a funeral bell All is gone... You love another person, And all that's left is an illusory dream. Two saxophones and a violin played in the orchestra, A half-drunk night restaurant fell asleep, Faded roses were left as a memory And your unfinished glass of champagne. Now weep, if you're weeping over your black pride, With your face hidden in a blue veil, And let rubies shine erupting No one will understand your sorrow, baby. %==================================== K3.16 $I72I42I5,I4I5I42I5$ Andrej Pavlov, oficer podvodnik, r.1959 Moskva, Sokol'niki, 3 iyunya 1985 Druz'ya, kupite papirosy. Noch' pechal'na i gluboka, za oknom temno Mal'chik malen'kij stoit, mechtaya ob odnom On stoit/k stene prizhatyj I na vid chut'-chut' gorbatyj I po\et na yazyke rodnom: Druz'ya! Kupite papirosy Podhodi, brodyaga i matrosy Podhodite, ne robejte Sirotu dushoj sogrejte Posmotrite, nogi moi bosy. Moj otec v boyu zhestokom zhizn' svoyu otdal, Moyu mamu na rassvete nemec rasstrelyal A sestra/moya v nevole, Sam ya ranen v chistom pole, Ottogo i zren'e poteryal. Druz'ya! Ya nichego ne vizhu Podhodite, ya vas ne obizhu. Podhodite, ne robejte Sirotu dushoj sogrejte Posmotrite, nogi moi bosy. Ya sirotka i kaleka, mne semnadcat' let Ya sprosil u cheloveka, daj zhe mne otvet Gde zdes' mozhno priyutit'sya Da i Bogu pomolit'sya Do chego zh ne mil mne belyj svet. Druz'ya! Kupite papirosy Podhodi, brodyaga i matrosy Podhodite, ne robejte Sirotu dushoj sogrejte Posmotrite, nogi moi bosy. %================================== K3.16 $I72I42I5,I4I5I42I5$ Andrej Pavlov, submarine officer, b.1959 Moscow, June 1985 Friends, buy cigarettes. The night is sad and deep, it's dark beyond the window A small boy stands and dreams about only one thing, He is pressed against a wall Looking slightly humpbacked And sings in his native tongue: Friends! Buy cigarettes, Come up, homeless and sailors, Come up, don't be shy, Warm an orphan with your soul, Look, my feet are bare. My father lost his life in a fierce battle, My mother was shot at the dawn by a Nazi, And my sister is in slavery, I was wounded in the field, That is how I lost my sight. Friends! I don't see anything, Come up, I won't offend you, Come up, don't be shy, Warm an orphan with your soul, Look, my feet are bare. I'm an orphan, I'm a cripple, I am 17. I have asked a passer-by, give me an answer: Where I can find shelter And pray God, Oh, how unmerciful is this world. %================================== {\rm COMMON BALLADS} D3.28 $I5$ Prizyvniki osetiny: "Belyj", 19l (r.1961) Poezd Moskva-Tallin, iyun' 1981 Morshanskij trakt prolozhen do vostoka I kak-to raz po e`tomu puti Mashina ZIS, gruzh\enaya benzinom Reshila studebekker obojti (2c 2r) A studebekker sh\el s boepripasom Vela mashinu devushka shof\er Ne trat', ne trat', ZISok, benzin naprasno, Mownee studebekkera motor. I tak oni doshli do povorota Dorogi ne zhelaya ustupit' A po krayam glubokie bolota I strelochka na sotenke lezhit No vstrechnyj Ford reshil sud'bu is\-hoda Na povorote vrezalsya v ZISa Ne stalo slyshno peniya motora Shof\er ZISa lezhal u kolesa. Zachem ty devka tak zatormozila Snaryady ot tolchka razorvalis' I za rul\em naveki ty usnula Sud'be svoej naveki pokoris'. %================================ {\rm COMMON BALLADS} D3.28 $I5$ Drafted Ossetians, 19 Train from Moscow to Tallinn, June 1981 Morshansk highway stretched to the east And once along this way A ZIS truck loaded with gas Decided to pass a Studebecker. The Studebecker carried ammunition The driver was a girl: "Don't spend your gas in vain, A Studebecker's engine is more powerful" And so they approached a curve No one was willing to give way, Deep swamps on each side And speedometer pointing at 100 kph. But the approaching Ford decided the outcome, Collided with the ZIS at the curve, No singing of the engine was heard, The ZIS driver lay at the wheels. Oh girl, you shouldn't apply your brakes so sharply, The ammunition exploded from the bump And you fell asleep forever at the helm, Yield to your fate forever. %==================================== {\rm SONGS OF CONVICTS} D5.07 $H5$ Aleksej Magarik, r.1958 31 okt 1983 g. Moskva Na ozerah tolstyj led rastaet I v sadah fialki zacvetut Tol'ko nas s toboyu pod konvoem Na dalekij Sever povezut. Snova e`ti krytye vagony I kol\es nerovnyj pereboj Snova opustevshie perrony I sobak konvojnyh gromkij voj V lageryah mechtayut o svobode No o nej ne stoit govorit' Avtomaty chasovyh na vzvode Mogut nam svobodu podarit' A kogda vernesh'sya na svobodu Skazhesh', mne svoboda ne nuzhna Tol'ko skazhet mama dorogaya Na viskah u syna sedina (po slovam Al\eshi, e`tu pesnyu emu spel pozhiloj e`stonec, sidevshij v lagere, vstrechennyj v Tallinskom poezde.) %============================ {\rm SONGS OF CONVICTS} D5.07 $H5$ Alexei Magarik, private teacher of Hebrew Moscow, 1983 Thick ice will melt on the lakes And the violets will flower in the gardens, But you and I will be escorted In the trains to the Far North. Once again, these roofed cars, And uneven clatter of the wheels, Once again, empty platforms And the loud howl of escort dogs. Inmates often dream about freedom Yet this should not be spoken of, Guards' rifles which are ready to fire Can give freedom to all of us. And when you'll return to freedom, You'll say, I don't need it Only dear mother will say, Her son's temples are gray... %================================ {\rm SOLDIERS' POETRY} T2.14 $B3$ Vadim, serzhant, 19l (r.1959) voennaya chast' 03166, Kalinin (Tver') iyul' 1978 Novogodnyaya noch' Prid\et novogodnyaya noch' Ty budesh' s druz'yami gulyat' A mne dorogaya prid\etsya Opyat' v karaule stoyat'.(2s 2r) Vy rovno v dvenadcat' nachn\ete Bokaly vinom zapolnyat' A ya so svoim razvodyawim Pojdu chasovogo menyat' Proveryu zamki i pechati Poveshu na grud' avtomat I hot' na mgnoven'e zabudu Chto prazdnik ne nado vstrechat' A vy veselites', gulyajte Ne vsem zhe stoyat' na postu I polnyj bokal podnimite Za teh, kto sejchas na postu. %================================ {\rm SOLDIERS' POETRY} T2.14 $B3$ Vadim, serzhant, 19l (r.1959) voennaya chast' 03166, Kalinin (Tver') iyul' 1978 New Year's eve It will be New Year's eve You will celebrate it with your friends, And I will have, darling, To stand sentry again. You will start at 12:00 midnight Filling the wine in your glasses Then the officer and I Will go to change the guard. I'll check locks and seals, I'll hang a rifle on my breast And I'll forget for an instant That I could be with you at the fest. And let you drink and make merry, You don't have to stand at the post, But may you raise a full glass For those who're now at the post. %================================ T1.01 $C3'$ Vladimir Markitanov, 27l (r.1952) Ae`rogeologiya, r.Sev. Uj 7 iyulya 1977 Osen' (Mama) Pomnyu, osennej poroj Padaya, list'ya shurshali Ya vozvrawalsya domoj, syuda domoj Gde menya dolgo tak zhdali. K poezdu vstretit' prishla Chto govorit', skazhem pryamo Vstretit' synochka prishla, da ty prishla Milaya rodnaya mama. I na soldatskoj grudi Laskaya rodnuyu starushku Ty tiho ej skazhesh': vedi, menya vedi Vedi menya v nashu izbushku. Tam, gde ya ros Laskoj tvoeyu sogretyj Chasto gonyal golubej, e`h golubej Poroyu po kryshe razdetyj. Za kruglym domashnim stolom Bokaly polnej nalivaya Shipuchim shampanskim vinom, vinom,vinom Ya p'yu za tebya, dorogaya. Za materej, Chto syna s toskoj provozhaya Potom iz dal\ekih kra\ev, kra\ev,morej Slezoj na perrone vstrechayut. %================================= T1.01 $C3'$ Vladimir Markitanov, 27 (b.1952) Airgeology, r.Northern Uj July 1977 Autumn (usu. Mama) I remember the autumn, The leaves rustled as they fell, I returned home Awaited for so long You came to meet me at the train, Let us say it straight, You came to meet your dear son My dear mother And on the soldier's breast, Hugging dear old mother You'll say softly, lead me Lead me to our small hut Where I grew up Warmed by your kindness, I often set the doves in flight At the roof, sometimes without a coat At the home's round table Fill the glasses full By the sparkling shampagne I drink for you, my dear mother For those mothers, Who send their sons off with a yearning, And meet them at the platform in tears As they return from far-off lands and seas. %============================= {\rm SATIRIC AND EROTIC POETRY} K3.09 $H4$ Studenty-udarniki Gnesinskogo Uchiliwa Moskva, 1984 YaFP$+$YaRP Sh\el ya lesom, pesnyu pel, Solovej mne na huj sel. Ya hotel ego sognat', Uletel, ebena mat'! 2YaRP Kak nad Kievskim vokzalom Proletal ae`roplan, Vse ebal'niki zadrali, A ya spizdil chemodan! YaFZh U moej mil\enki v zhope Razorvalas' kliz'ma Prizrak brodit po Evrope, Prizrak kommuniz'ma! %===================== {\rm DITTIES} K3.09 $H4$ Students of Gnesin Musical Institure Moscow, 1984 YaFP$+$YaRP I went through a forest, singing a song, A nightingale landed on my penis, I wanted to catch him, He flew away, damn thing! 2YaRP An airplane was flying Over the Kiev railway terminal, Everyone looked in the sky And I lifted a suitcase! YaFZh A syringe exploded In my love's ass; The ghost is wandering through Europe, The ghost of Communism! %===================== K3.25 FL 1986 $H4,H22$ Fedya,r.1968, soldat s prombazy u st.Lianozovo, 12 avg 1986 YaFP$+$YaFZh Sh\el ya lesom, videl besa, Bes pohl\ebochku varil Na huj kotelok povesil, A iz zhopy dym valil. YaRP$+$YaRZh -- Pravda, Van'? -- Pravda, Kol'! -- Ty ne vr\esh'? -- A huli vrat'! -- Zabozhisya! -- Suka budu! -- Davaj dal'she prodolzhat'! YaFP$+$YaFZh Kak na tom/beregu Cerkov' obokrali, V zhopu vyebli popa, V kolokol nasrali -- Pravda, Van'? -- Pravda, Kol'! -- Ty ne vr\esh'? -- A huli vrat'! -- Zabozhisya! -- Suka budu! -- Davaj dal'she prodolzhat'! YaRP Kak na Kievskom vokzale Zadavili murav'ya, Celyj mesyac myaso zhrali I ostalos' do huya. %======================= K3.25 $H4,H22$ Fedya, 21. a soldier Moscow, Aug 1986 YaFP$+$YaFZh I went through a forest, I've seen a demon The demon was cooking a soup: Hanged a pot on his penis Smoke was pouring from his ass! YaRP$+$YaRZh -- Is that true, Vanya? -- Yes, Kolya, it is! -- Aren't you lying? -- What for? -- Swear! -- I'd be a bitch! -- Let's continue! YaFP+YaFZh On the river's opposite bank The church was robbed, They fucked the priest, They shit into the bell! -- Is that true, Vanya? -- Yes, Kolya, it is! -- Aren't you kidding? -- What for? -- Swear! -- I'll be a bitch! -- Let's continue! YaRP At the Kiev railway station An ant was run over by a car; They gobbled its meat for a whole month And a hell of a lot was left! %================================= {\rm INTELLECTUALS' POETRY} T1.27 $D3$ Rudol'f Mokrushin, geolog,r.1948 seredina avgusta 1977 Ae`rogeologiya, r.Sev. Uj Mne ne zabyt' toj doliny, Malen'kij tur iz kamnej I ledorub v seredinu Vlozhen rukami druzej Pripev: Veter tihon'ko kolyshet, Gn\et barbarisovyj kust Paren' usnul i ne slyshit Pesen serdechnuyu grust'. Uzkoyu lentochkoj v'\etsya Gornaya rechka shumit Kto v tu dolinu vern\etsya Pamyatnik tot posetit Pripev. A na dal\ekom privale V skalah mercaet ogon' Grustnuyu pesnyu o druge Tiho zavodit garmon' Pripev. %================================== {\rm INTELLECTUALS' POETRY} T1.27 $D3$ Rudol'f Mokrushin, geologist b.1948 August, 1977 Airgeology, r. Northern Uj I can't forget this valley A small tower of stones And an ice-axe put in the middle By friends' hands Refrain: The wind gently sways, Bends the barberry bush The lad fell asleep, he doesn't hear The heart-felt sadness of the songs. Winding like a narrow ribbon A mountain stream makes a noise Whoever returns to this valley Will visit this monument Refrain And at the far camp Fire is glimmering in the rocks An accordion starts playing A sad song about a friend Refrain %=============================== {\rm STUDENTS' SONGS} D2.06p $B4B3$ Ol'ga Borovaya, stud. MIIT 1973 (po pamyati) Raskinulos' pole po modulyu pyat', Vdali integraly stoyali, Student ne sumel proizvodnuyu vzyat', Emu v dekanate skazali: Analiz nel'zya na arapa sdavat', Professor tovoj nedovolen, Izvol' teoremu Koshi dokazat' Il' budesh' s primata uvolen. Hotel dokazat' on, a znan'ya uzh net, V glazah u nego pomutilos' Uvidel stipendii merknuwij svet, Upal, serdce v nul' obratilos'. Tri dnya v dekanate pokojnik lezhal, Obvit v mnogochlennye kol'ca, Tri nochi nad nim zamdekana chital Pyatnadcatyj tom Fihtengol'ca. K nogam privyazali emu integral I v matricu trup zavernuli Dekan teoremu nad nim prochital I za bort s primata spihnuli. Marksist svoe veskoe slovo skazal: Materiya ne ischezaet Pogibnet student, na mogile ego Takoj zhe lopuh vyrastaet. Naprasno studenty zhdut druga v pivnoj, V nauke bez zhertv ne byvaet. A sinusa grafik volna za volnoj Po osi absciss ubegaet. %================================== {\rm STUDENTS' SONGS} D2.06p $B4B3$ Ol'ga Borovaya, applied math major, 18 1973 The field modulo 5 was so immense, Integrals were standing around The student could not take a derivative, So he was told in the dean's office: You cannot pass calculus for free, The professor is dissatisfied with you, Please prove Cauchy's theorem, Or you'll be dismissed from the math dept. He wanted to prove it, yet there's no knowledge, Everything turned cloudy in his eyes, He'd seen a fading light of the stipendium, He fell, his heart turned to zero. The corpse lay in the dean's office for three days, Wrapped in polynomial rings, The vice chairman read over him for three nights Calculus by Fichtenholtz, vol. 15. They attached an integral to his feet And wrapped the dead body in a matrix, The dean read over him a theorem And they pushed him overboard from the department. The professor of Marxism said his weighty word: Matter does not disappear, Whenever a student perishes, a same burdock will grow on his grave. (burdock=fool, stud. slang) The students wait in the pub, but in vain, There's no science without vistims And the sine's graph wave after wave Is running away by abscissa axis. %================================= T1.25p $H4$ nachalo 60-h gg. Mag. zapis' Dzhany Kut'inoj (po pamyati) Sam ya vyatskij urozhenec, Mnogo gorya povidal, da povidal, Vsyu Rossiyu ya ob`ehal, s Al\ehoj, Dazhe v Turcii byval, da,da! (2s 2r) V Turcii narodu mnogo, Turok mnogo, russkih net, ah russkih net I poe`tomu u turok, s Al\ehoj Zhil ya slovno Magomet, da,da! Mnogo turok pokalechil Na dorogah, Bozhe moj, ah, Bozhe moj Koshel'kov po trista na den', s Al\ehoj Dostaval odnoj rukoj, da,da! Turki dumali, gadali, Dogadat'sya ne mogli, da ne mogli Sobralisya vsem shalmanom, s Al\ehoj K shahu s zhaloboj poshli, da,da! Shah im dal sovet horoshij: Chtoby byli cely koshel'ki, da koshel'ki Zapirajte-ka vy, turki, karmany Da na visyachie zamki, da,da! No i tut ya ne promazal, Nigde promahu ne dal, da ne dal: Doloto dostal bol'shoe, s Al\ehoj Dolotom zamki sshibal, da,da! %================================= T1.25p $H4$ Early 60's Dzhana Kutina's tape record (genre: a "criminal" song of intellectuals) I'm a native of Vyatka, I've seen a lot of trouble, I have travelled all of Russia, with Aleha And even have been to Turkey, oh, yes! (2l 2t) There's a lot of folk in Turkey, A lot of Turks, but no Russians, And that is why Aleha and I Lived like a Mohammed! I have crippled many Turks On the roads, oh my God! Some three hundred purses a day, I picked with a single hand! The Turks were thinking, they were guessing Could not figure it out, Gathered all their wisdom, And came complainig to the Shah! The Shah gave them good advise: To make your purses safe Lock up, Turks, your pockets With padlocks! Yet I never missed the target, Made no blunder, none at all, Got a big chisel, With this chisel knocked the locks off!