Lyrics and translation паліндром - Не дожив

Не дожив

Ще й до жнив не дожив,
в полі жита не жав.
Досі — не долюбив,
і не жив, і не жаль.
Ще й до жнив не дожив,
в полі жита не жав.
Досі — не долюбив,
і не жив, і не жаль.

Що життя — то хіба
твоя сутня межа?
Смерть заріже раба,
і нехай — без ножа.
Але жити — замало.
Боротись — умій,
щоб нащадок твій змалку
бува не знімів.
Не знімів на уста
і на вуха не зглух.
Хай помреш!
Та за нами останеться рух.
Згинем — хай!
Хай — ославлені.
Хай — не біда,
вікова чортопхайка
наближує даль.
По роках, по кістках,
по обмерзлих гробах
витрамбовує повінь
для річища шлях.
А до жнив не дожив,
в полі жита не жав,
і замало любив —
то, їй-богу, не жаль.
А до жнив не дожив,
в полі жита не жав,
і замало любив —
то, їй-богу, не жаль.

Ще й до жнив не дожив,
в полі жита не жав.
Досі — не долюбив,
і не жив, і не жаль.
Ще й до жнив не дожив,
в полі жита не жав.
Досі — не долюбив,
і не жив, і не жаль.

Досі — не долюбив,
і не жив, і не жаль.
Досі — не долюбив,
і не жив, і не жаль.

Not Having Lived

Nor having lived long enough to reap,
in the field of rye I did not sow.
Until now — not having loved enough,
and having neither lived nor grieved.
Nor having lived long enough to reap,
in the field of rye I did not sow.
Until now — not having loved enough,
and having neither lived nor grieved.

What is life — is it
the very essence of your boundary?
Death will slay the servant,
even without a knife.
But living — is too little.
Know how to fight,
so that your descendant in childhood
will never grow dumb.
Not dumb at his lips,
nor deaf in his ears.
Let us perish!
But after us there will remain movement.
We will perish — so be it!
Let us be infamous.
Let it not be a pity,
the age-old devilry
brings the distance nearer.
Through the years, over the bones,
over frozen graves
the flood will pave
a path for the riverbed.
And not having lived long enough to reap,
in the field of rye I did not sow,
and having loved too little —
that, by God, is no pity.
And not having lived long enough to reap,
in the field of rye I did not sow,
and having loved too little —
that, by God, is no pity.

Nor having lived long enough to reap,
in the field of rye I did not sow.
Until now — not having loved enough,
and having neither lived nor grieved.
Nor having lived long enough to reap,
in the field of rye I did not sow.
Until now — not having loved enough,
and having neither lived nor grieved.

Until now — not having loved enough,
and having neither lived nor grieved.
Until now — not having loved enough,
and having neither lived nor grieved.