Поддатый. На мрачных улицах города N.
Ночь. Забытье.
Где комнатушка твоя?
Заходишь в бар, ища самого себя,
заказываешь скотч и воду.
Долбаные бары-мокрощелки. Их дрянь
частично впитывается в рукава одежды.
Скотч разбадяжен.
Мерзкий притон.
Заказываешь пиво...
Мамзель - Смерть проходит мимо
в вечернем платье. Пристраивается рядом.
Очередной заказ пива...
От нее несет тиной.
Она тычет своим коленом промеж твоих.
Бармен лыбится, волнуется,
не просекает кто ты: мусор, убийца, еб***ый,
или просто идиот.
Заказываешь водку
и вливаешь ее
в свое пиво.
В час ночи в этом мертвецки запуганном мире
узнаешь у Смерти, что с твоей башкой,
т.к. пьешь все, что можно пить...
а все на вкус, как машинное масло.
Затем пошлешь ее
и придурка-бармена.
Поскольку вспомнишь где твоя конура
с комодом, набитым винами.
С плясками тараканов.
В этом совершенстве фанерной дряни,
смеясь когда-то сдохла любовь.
перевод: Станислав Еленский
Big Night On The Town - Poem by Charles Bukowski
drunk on the dark streets of some city,
it's night, you're lost, where's your
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar's sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt
sleeves.
It's a clip joint-the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame Death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you've got him worried, he doesn't
know if you're a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
Idiot.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It's one a.m. In a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.
you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.
you have remembered where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
roaches.
Perfection in the Star Turd
where love died
laughing.
Screwy. In the dark streets of the city N.
Night. Oblivion.
Where's your little room?
Walks into a bar, looking for himself,
order a scotch and water.
Fucking-mokroschelki bars. their rubbish
partially absorbed into the garment sleeves.
Scotch razbadyazhen.
Vile hangout.
Order a beer ...
Mademoiselle - Death passes
in evening dress. Parked nearby.
Another beer order ...
From it carries mud.
She pokes his knee your Intermedia.
Bartender lybitsya, worried
prosekaet not who you are: trash killer, fucked *** th,
or just an idiot.
order a vodka
and poured it
in his beer.
In the morning the dead intimidated the world
Find out from Death, what happened to your head against,
Because drink all you can drink ...
and everything tastes like motor oil.
Then you send it
and jerk-bartender.
As you remember where your kennel
a chest of drawers, full of wine.
With dancing cockroaches.
This perfectly plywood rubbish,
laughing once love has died.
translation: Stanislav Yelenskyi
Big Night On The Town - Poem by Charles Bukowski
drunk on the dark streets of some city,
it's night, you're lost, where's your
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar's sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt
sleeves.
It's a clip joint-the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame Death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you've got him worried, he does not
know if you're a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
Idiot.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It's one a.m. In a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.
you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.
you have remembered where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
roaches.
Perfection in the Star Turd
where love died
laughing.
