Khoziain

Khoziain, prosti, chto trevozhu tebia,
Ehto neskol'ko strannyj vizit.
Ia videl svet v oknakh tvoego ehtazha,
Dver' otkryta, vakhter uzhe spit.
U novykh zhil'tsov vecherinka,
Oni, vypiv, krichat, chto ty mif;
No ia pomniu den', kogda ia v'ekhal siuda,
I ia dejstvitel'no rad, chto ty zhiv.


Khoziain, ia prosto shel ot druzej,
Ia dumal o chem-to svoem.
Oni zhivut v ehtikh novykh domakh,
I po-detski dovol'ny zhil'em.
No ia vspominaiu svoj prokurennyj ugol,
Fonar' v okne, kupol s krestom,
I mne svetlo, kak v snezhnuiu noch',
I ia smeius' nad ikh koldovstvom.


Khoziain, ia vedu strannuiu zhizn',
I menia ne liubit zavkhoz;
Tvoi slugi, vozmozhno, milye liudi,
No tozhe ne dariat mne roz.
I ia idu mimo nikh, kak pochetnyj gost',
Khotia mne prosto sdan ugol vnaem;
No, Khoziain, prosti za derzost',
Ia ne lishnij v dome tvoem.


Khoziain, ia plachu ne kak vse,
No ia plachu tem, chto est'.
Khoziain, moia vera slaba,
No ia slyshal dobruiu vest'.
Khoziain, ia nikudyshnyj fundament,
I, naverno, plokhoe veslo -
No, Khoziain, kogda ty zakhochesh' pit',
Ty vspomnish' moe remeslo.

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