Nastik Gryzunova (nastik) wrote,
Nastik Gryzunova

Лаудон Уэйнрайт III. Человек, который не умел плакать // The Man Who Couldn't Cry

давно хотела сделать. ну такое себе упражнение.

Лаудон Уэйнрайт III
Человек, который не умел плакать

Жил-был человек, что рыдать не умел
Не плакал - такой вот курьез
Ни детские вопли, ни киношные сопли
Не пробуждали в нем слез

Ребенком он плакал, как плачут все дети
Потом пересохли глаза
Он подрос наконец, и подкрался трындец,
Но на свет не явилась слеза

Сбили собаку, жена хлопнула дверью
С войны без руки пришел, как дурак
Блядь смешил до икоты, был выперт с работы,
Ему б зарыдать - а никак

Его роман отклонили, кино запретили,
В театре спектакль не пошел
Дальше опций немного: КПЗ, без залога
Но сырости он не развел

В тюрьме издевались, дрючили, били
Послали на лесоповал
Он жил у параши на жиденькой каше
И все-таки не зарыдал

Ну, созвали ученых и всяких врачей
Богословы слетелись, как мухи на мед
Рассудили все так: тут у нас не слабак
А вообще-то бесчувственный скот

Из тюрьмы его перевели в тихий дом
Для тех, у кого уже все позади
Там он в шашки играл и с друзьями болтал
И он плакал, когда шли дожди

Как-то раз шли дожди сорок дней и ночей
А он плакал, и плакал, и всхлипывал жутко
Все рыдал и рыдал и богу душу отдал
Обезвоживание - не шутка

Очутился в раю, там собаку нашел
Руку тоже потом отыскал
В отставку подали критиканы внизу
Блядь смешливую рак доконал

От растяжек жена умерла, босс - банкрот
Богословов сослали в глушь
В старой тюрьме случился пожар
А в мир пришла вечная сушь

The Man Who Couldn't Cry
by Loudon Wainwright III

There once was a man who just couldn't cry
He hadn't cried for years and for years
Napalmed babies and the movie love story
For instance could not produce tears

As a child he had cried as all children will
Then at some point his tear ducts ran dry
He grew to be a man, the feces hit the fan
Things got bad, but he couldn't cry

His dog was run over, his wife up and left him
And after that he got sacked from his job
Lost his arm in the war, was laughed at by a whore
Ah, but still not a sniffle or sob

His novel was refused, his movie was panned
And his big Broadway show was a flop
He got sent off to jail; you guessed it, no bail
Oh, but still not a dribble or drop

In jail he was beaten, bullied and buggered
And made to make license plates
Water and bread was all he was fed
But not once did a tear stain his face

Doctors were called in, scientists, too
Theologians were last and practically least
They all agreed sure enough; this was sure no cream puff
But in fact an insensitive beast

He was removed from jail and placed in a place
For the insensitive and the insane
He played lots of chess and made lots of friends
And he wept every time it would rain

Once it rained forty days and it rained forty nights
And he cried and he cried and he cried and he cried
On the forty-first day, he passed away
He just dehydrated and died

Well, he went up to heaven, located his dog
Not only that, but he rejoined his arm
Down below, all the critics, they took it all back
Cancer robbed the whore of her charm

His ex-wife died of stretch marks, his ex-employer went broke
The theologians were finally found out
Right down to the ground, that old jail house burned down
The earth suffered perpetual drought

а на самом деле это звучит так:

Tags: i'm trying to read here, loudon wainwright iii, sounds of silence
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