So that there were no traces, they swept everywhere ...
|
Scold me, shame me and ring:
|
My finish is the horizon, and the ribbon is the edge of the Earth, -
|
I must be the first on the horizon!
|
Not everyone approved the terms of the bet -
|
And the hands broke reluctantly.
|
The condition is this: to go - on the highway,
|
And only along the highway - irrevocably.
|
I wind miles on a cardan
|
And I'm going parallel to the wires, -
|
But every now and then a shadow in front of the motor -
|
Either a black cat, or someone in something black.
|
I know that sticks have been poked into my wheels more than once.
|
I guess in what and how I will be deceived.
|
I know where my run will be stopped with a grin
|
And where the cable is stretched across the road.
|
But I drown arrows - at these speeds,
|
A grain of sand takes on the strength of a bullet,
|
And I squeeze the steering wheel to cramps in my hands -
|
Have time before the bolts are tightened!
|
I wind miles on a cardan
|
And I'm going vertically to the wires, -
|
Tighten the nuts - hurry up! |
-
|
Otherwise, they will lift the cable just where the neck is.
|
And the asphalt melts, the treads boil,
|
Under the spoon sucks from the proximity of the denouement.
|
I'm tearing the tight rope with my bare chest, -
|
I'm alive - take off the black bandages!
|
Who forced me to make a hard bet -
|
Unscrupulous in dispute and calculations.
|
Excitement makes me drunk, but whatever you say,
|
I brake on slippery turns.
|
I wind miles on a cardan,
|
To spite the ropes, cables, wires -
|
You only reason with the losers,
|
When I appear on the horizon!
|
Losing.
|
My finish line - the horizon - is still far away,
|
I did not break the tape, but I finished with the cable, -
|
The rope did not cross my cervical vertebra,
|
But from the bushes they shoot at the wheels.
|
After all, it wasn’t rubles that brought me to the race, -
|
They asked me: "Don't miss a moment -
|
Find out, is there a limit? |
- there, on the edge of the earth,
|
And - is it possible to expand the horizons?
|
I wind miles on the gimbal.
|
I won't let myself put a bullet in the ramp.
|
But the brakes fail - coda! |
-
|
I miss the horizon right off the bat! |