* * *

K.N.
Nam ne budet pomexi v opasnyx popytkax snaruzhi
Zaglyanut' v osveczennoe chrevo vokzala, i v nem
Obnaruzhit': sobran'e zheleznodorozhnikov druzhnyx;
V strannoj forme --- kassir ili starshij po zvan'yu?
           --- Xaron.

I kak budto doroga, petlyaya, pen'koyu svernulas',
Medyaka na proezd ne dostanet uzhe nikomu:
Zal usypan monetami... gde-to starushka nagnulas',
Ili selezen' vskriknul, i lodka nesetsya k nemu...

No snaruzhi svetlej, za steklom semenit otrazhen'e ---
Nu i pust', ne zaxochesh', kogda-to okazhesh'sya tam!
Proxodi, proxodi, zerkala obraczayut dvizhen'e,
Oborvesh' provoda --- i ogon' pobezhit po pyatam,

I pokatyatsya v goru pokornye versty i mili
(Sovremenniki zhadnye, ot neterpen'ya drozha,
Celyj mir napisali na share, no ix pozabyli,
Kak zabudut i nas, ne uspeesh' plechami pozhat').

Nam ne budet pomexi... no ehto li pesnya goboya ---
Raskryvayutsya okna, u vxoda tolpyatsya, i vot
Provodnica v dveryax! Nichego ne sluchitsya s toboyu:
Ehto tronulsya poezd... V vagonax vstrechayut vosxod.

1993,96.
Same poem in KOI8.
Return to Yulya Fridman.