Текст песни Владимир Высоцкий - К поэтам

Who ended his life tragically, the true poet,
And if the exact term, so the full.
In figure 26 one stepped under the gun
The other is in the loop slazil in & quot; Angleterre & quot ;.

    A 33 - Christ. He was a poet, he said:
    Do not kill. Kill - everywhere I find, they say.
    But the nails in his hands, that which is not created,
    Not to write about anything and did not think.

With me at the figure of 37 at the time flies hops.
And now, as the cold blew.
Under this figure, Pushkin himself podgadat duel
Mayakovsky went to the temple on the muzzle.

    Linger on the figure 37? - Insidious god.
    I put the question point-blank: either-or
    At the turn of the lay and Byron and Rimbaud,
    But the present is somehow slipped.

The duel did not take place il moved.
A 33 - crucified, but not much.
A 37 - no blood, so that there is blood and gray hair
Stain whiskey is not so plentiful.

    Low shoot. In heels, they say, the soul long gone.
    Patience, psychopaths and hysterics.
    Poets go heels on the edge
    And cut the blood his bare soul.

On the word & quot; long-necked & quot; in the end we had three & quot; e & quot;
Shorten the poet. The conclusion is clear.
And a knife in him. But he is happy to hang out on the edge,
Stabbed to death for what was dangerous.

    I am sorry you, followers of fatal dates and numbers:
    Tomites as concubines in a harem ...
    Term life increased. And maybe ends
    Poets moved away for a time.

Yes, it is true, long neck - bait for loop
And chest - the target for the arrows, but not in a hurry:
Gone dates immortality is not found,
So do not live in a hurry.