"tsoi" poems
Today they say "Goodbye" to someone,
Tomorrow they will say "Farewell, forever"
And the wound in your heart bleeds profusely.
Tomorrow someone returns home,
Only to stand upon the ruins of their own city.
And someone will fall from the top of a crane...
So take care of yourself... Be careful...
Tomorrow morning, someone lying in bed
Will realize that there's no cure for his sickness,
Someone leaving home will get into a car accident.
Tomorrow, somewhere in a hospital
The hand of a young surgeon will slip.
Someone walking in the woods will fall into a mine...
So take care of yourself... Be careful...
Tonight an airplane flies above us,
Tomorrow it will crash into the ocean
And all the passengers will die...
Tomorrow, somewhere, who knows where?
There will be war, an epidemic, a huge blizzard...
And black holes in the vastness of space...
So watch out for yourself, Be careful...
Viktor Tsoi
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
White snow, gray ice,
Upon the dry, cracked earth.
A quilt lies on top -
A city in the loop of the road.
Above the city, clouds float by,
Blocking the light of the skies.
Above the city, yellow smoke.
The city stands for two thousand years
Under the light of the star that we call the sun
For two thousand years there is war,
War for no particular cause.
War is in the hands of the young,
Medicine against wrinkled skin.
The blood, the red, red blood,
In an hour is simply earth,
In two it holds grass and flowers,
In three it is once more alive
And warmed by the rays of the star that we call the sun
And we know that it has always been so,
That those who are loved by fate
Are those who live by laws not our own,
Those who are doomed to die young
He can't remember the word "yes," the word "no,"
He can't remember the ranks or the names.
He is capable of reaching the stars,
Discounting that this is a dream
And fall down, singed by the star that we call the sun
Viktor Tsoi
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
A warm place
But the streets are waiting for the footprints of our feet
Stardust on our boots.
A soft armchair, checkered plaid,
A trigger not pulled in time.
A sunny day - in blinding dreams.
Blood type - on the sleeve
My serial number - on the sleeve,
Wish me luck in battle, wish for me
To not stay in this grass,
To not stay in this grass.
Wish me luck, wish me luck!
And there is enough to pay, but I don't want
Victory at any cost.
I don't want to put my leg on anyone's chest.
I would have liked to stay with you,
To just stay with you,
But the star high in the sky is calling me.
Blood type - on the sleeve
My serial number - on the sleeve,
Wish me luck in battle, wish for me
To not stay in this grass,
To not stay in this grass.
Wish me luck, wish me luck
Viktor Tsoi
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC