Текст песни Zorge - Эпизод 4. Бухта спокойствия
Исполнитель: Zorge
Название песни: Эпизод 4. Бухта спокойствия
Дата добавления: 15.02.2026 | 10:20:25
Название песни: Эпизод 4. Бухта спокойствия
Дата добавления: 15.02.2026 | 10:20:25
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Здесь расположен текст песни Zorge - Эпизод 4. Бухта спокойствия, перевод и видео.
Он просыпается от странной тишины. Ни утробного звука мотора, ни грохота волн о железную коробку. По привычке, без всякой надежды нажимает на железную дверь. Она спокойно, с легким скрипом открывается. Подумав минуту, он движется по узкому проходу. Лестница, еще одна, Люк нараспашку и в нем яркие, как драгоценные камни звезды, мерцающие в теплом волокнистом воздухе. На палубе ни души. Неожиданно небольшое судно спит в компании себе подобных посреди огромной мерцающей бухты. У спущенного на воду трапа покачивается оранжевая резиновая лодка. На постепенно светлеющем востоке то, что казалось исполинской фабрикой принимает свои обычные очертания. Это не завод и не трубы. Это древний город и тысячи его башен. И они тоже начинают оживать. It wasn't always clear who started this game first. Everyone had their own rules—and, in fact, there weren't any now. After the third explosion, no one remembered the previous one with its orange clouds, much less the first one, which had filled the river with slowly floating furniture, car tires, brightly colored children's toys, televisions. And the bodies of their former owners. Their eyes—they were always open. "Toward horror and night." However, the soldiers tell stories that were even worse. Then the dark crowds of refugees from the north disappeared, along with their feral, once-pedigree dogs, howling while their owners lost their power of speech forever. They simply went mute—that's how they were identified. And taken away somewhere. There were rumors that the marine guards had taken everyone to distant smoky islands. Then these islands disappeared from navigators, as did most of the cities upriver. Downstream, there was only the ocean. The third explosion brought silence and a strange order. Sleepy, deserted streets. Quick, fleeting shadows. The hurried slam of doors admitting someone. As if all life was being squeezed out to sea by a long, dusty, hot wind. Sometimes it seemed as if the cranes of this port were moving of their own accord, creaking and talking to each other. Just like people before, even before the first explosion. He came here, but reluctantly, briefly, and almost always with trouble. A couple of charged cups of sour coffee, the hoarse laughter of fishermen burning the day away, an envelope with their fee, an inconspicuous gateway, a familiar junk shop. An eternal search for something. An eternal search for a miracle. One day, he returned from here with a long, heavy package, and it was miraculously overlooked by an indifferent evening patrol. Since then, every cloudless night, he recalled names so familiar from childhood and yet so distant: the Ocean of Storms, the Lake of Autumn, the Sea of Tranquility, the Sea of Moscow.... But one restless spring evening, he pointed the telescope down at the islands.
He awakens to a strange silence. No deep sound of an engine, no crash of waves against the iron frame. Out of habit, without any hope, he pushes on the iron door. It opens quietly, with a soft creak. After a moment's thought, he moves down the narrow passage. A staircase, then another. The hatch stands wide open, revealing stars bright as jewels, shimmering in the warm, fibrous air. There's no one on deck. Suddenly, a small vessel sleeps in the company of its own kind in the middle of a vast, shimmering bay. An orange rubber dinghy bobs near the launched gangway. In the gradually brightening east, what seemed like a gigantic factory takes on its usual outline. It's not a factory or chimneys. This is an ancient city and its thousands of towers. And they, too, are beginning to come to life.
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