Грант Анатолий - Волшебная скрипка

 Am/A  Am/F,E   Am/A  Am/F,E  Am/A  Am/F,E Am/A Am/F,E
 Милый мальчик, ты так весел, так светла твоя улыбка,


 Не проси об этом счастье, отравляющем миры,


 Ты не знаешь, ты не знаешь, что такое эта скрипка,


 Что такое темный ужас начинателя игры!



 Dm/D   Dm/C Dm/B Dm/Bb  Dm/D   Dm/C Dm/B Dm/Bb
 Тот, кто взял ее однажды в повелительные руки,

 Dm/D   Dm/C Dm/B Dm/Bb  Dm/D   Dm/C Dm/B Dm/Bb
 У того исчез навеки безмятежный свет очей,

 C        E7           Am              F
 Духи ада любят слушать эти царственные звуки,

 Dm                   E
 Бродят бешеные волки по дороге скрипачей.



 Am         C             D              E7
 Надо вечно петь и плакать этим струнам, звонким струнам,

 Dm           C              H7           E7
 Вечно должен биться, виться обезумевший смычок,

 Am                           A7           Dm
 И под солнцем, и под вьюгой, под белеющим буруном,

 Dm                   E7
 И когда пылает запад и когда горит восток.



 Am/A  Am/F,E   Am/A  Am/F,E  Am/A  Am/F,E Am/A Am/F,E
 Ты устанешь и замедлишь, и на миг прервется пенье,


 И уж ты не сможешь крикнуть, шевельнуться и вздохнуть, —

 C      E7            Am             F
 Тотчас бешеные волки в кровожадном исступленьи

 Dm                        E
 В горло вцепятся зубами, встанут лапами на грудь.



Проигрыш: Am, Am, Am, Am, Dm, Dm, E, E, C, E, Am, F, C, E7, Am.


 Dm/D   Dm/C  Dm/B   Dm/Bb  Dm/D   Dm/C   Dm/B   Dm/Bb
 Ты поймешь тогда, как злобно насмеялось все, что пело,


 В очи глянет запоздалый, но властительный испуг.

 C           E7             Am                   F
 И тоскливый смертный холод обовьет, как тканью, тело,

 Dm                   E
 И невеста зарыдает, и задумается друг.



 Am/A   Am/F,E   Am/A   Am/F,E   Am/A   Am/F,E  Am/A  Am/F,E
 Мальчик, дальше! Здесь не встретишь ни веселья, ни сокровищ!


 Но я вижу — ты смеешься, эти взоры — два луча.

 C          E7                 Am          F
 На, владей волшебной скрипкой, посмотри в глаза чудовищ

 Dm                         E
 И погибни славной смертью, страшной смертью скрипача!



 Проигрыш: Am, Am, Am, Am, Dm, Dm, E, E, C, E, Am, F, C, E7
           Am/A, Am/F,E, Am/A, Am/F,E, Am/A, Am/F,E, Am/A, Am/F,E, Am

 ==================================================

                                  Серж Македон  

             Magic Violin

 Darling boy, You are so merry, your smile is bright and clean, 
 Don't ask for this perfect happiness, poison for all our worlds... 
 You don't know, You don't know what defines this polish violin, 
 What secret horror hides in these initial accords. 

 A someone who takes her body in his imperative embrace, 
 Will forget a peace in soul and lose placid light in eyes; 
 Helly spirits like to hear these divine and regal plays, 
 Rage and fury beings ramble on the violinist's trace. 

 Always to be beating, weaving these clear strings in every sound, 
 Eternally frantic bow will cry, weep in time across... 
 And in downpour, in hail, and on white and wild ground, 
 And until the west is firing, and when blushing east is grows. 

 You'll be tire, and die away, instantly the song will worse. 
 In that time You cannot even lift a finger or make breathe, — 
 In the moment wild wolves will catch your throat by jaws, 
 In a bloody frenzied motion they will get up to your breast. 

 You'll be reason in that moment how sounds has been laugh 
 And blood-thirty frights ticken at your terrified eyes, 
 And the freezing deathly cold shackle up all in and out 
 And your bride will be in tears, and your friend will fall in rise. 

 Young boy, keep moving! There are not any treasures near here 
 But I see you gaily smile, your glance is like a rays... 
 Do it, well, posess the violin, look at twinkling eyes of fear 
 And be lost by glorious passing, by the violinist's death

======================================================

                                      Ольга Слободкина
               The Magic Violin

 Pretty boy, you are so merry and your smile's - so light, so sunny.
 Don't you ask me for this passion that is poison to the worlds.
 You don't know, don't know how dreadful is this Magic Violin, sonny,
 And how gloomy is the horror of the one who strikes the cords.

 He who took it one fine morning in his hands, so strong and speedy,
 Lost for ever, lost for ever tranquil light of his bright eyes.
 Hades' spirits like to listen to these regal sounds, kiddy.
 Rabid wolves are wandering near not to miss the violin cries.

 You must keep these ever ringing strings of Violin crying, singing
 And the fiddle stick beating, twisting, whipping, whirling, going mad...
 When the summer Sun is shining, when the snow is whirling, swinging,
 When the West is burning crimson, when the East is blushing red.

 You'll get tired and slow dowm breaking singing just to sense it
 that you can't that very minute breath or sigh - you are all pangs
 For at once the rabid monsters'll rush at you - blood thirsty, frenzied,
 Tramp your chest with their forefoes, pierce your throat with their fangs.

 Then you'll realize how foully laughed at you all that was singing.
 Tardy, but all-mighty fear will appear in your eyes.
 Melancholy, dreary death cold'll wrap your head, your ears ringing...
 And your bride will burst out crying, friends will have a sad surmise.

 Kiddy, further! Won't meet here neither merriment nor riches!
 But I see that you are smiling and these gazes are two rays.
 Take the Violin, see the abyss in the eyes of beast-like creatures,
 die the glorious and the horrid Death  that crowns musicians' ways.

.