Zorge - Эпизод 4. Бухта спокойствия - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

It was not always clear who started this game first.Everyone had their own rules - and, in general, they didn’t exist now.After the third explosion, no one remembered the previous one with its orange clouds, much less the first one, which filled the river with slowly floating furniture, car tires, bright children's toys, and televisions.And the bodies of their former owners.Their eyes - they were always open.“Towards horror and night.”However, the soldiers tell something different.Then disappeared the dark crowds of refugees from the north and their feral, once purebred dogs, who howled while their masters were forever speechless.They just went numb and that’s it – that’s how they were figured out.And they took me somewhere.There were rumors that the sea guards took everyone to distant smoky islands.Then these islands disappeared from navigators, like most of the cities upstream.Downstream there was only the ocean.The third explosion brought silence and a strange order.Sleepy, uncrowded streets.Fast fleeing shadows.The hasty knock of doors letting someone in.It was as if all living things were being squeezed out into the sea by a long, dusty and hot wind.Sometimes it seemed like the cranes of this port were moving on their own, creaking and talking to each other.Just like people did before, even before the first explosion.He came here, but reluctantly, not for long, and almost always with trouble.A couple of charged cups of sour coffee, the hoarse laughter of fishermen spending their day waiting for the hour, an envelope with a fee, an inconspicuous gateway, a familiar junk shop.Eternal search for something.Eternal search for a miracle.One day he returned from here with a long, heavy package, and it was miraculously missed by an indifferent evening patrol.Since then, every cloudless night he remembered the names, so familiar from childhood and just as distant: Ocean of Storms Lake of Autumn Sea of Tranquility Sea of Moscow... But one restless spring evening he pointed the telescope down to the islands

He wakes up from a strange silence.Neither the guttural sound of the engine, nor the crash of waves against the iron box.Out of habit, without any hope, he presses on the iron door.It opens calmly, with a slight creak.After thinking for a minute, he moves along the narrow passage.A staircase, another, a hatch wide open, and within it bright, jewel-like stars, twinkling in the warm, fibrous air.Not a soul on deck.Suddenly, a small ship sleeps in the company of its own kind in the middle of a huge shimmering bay.An orange rubber boat sways near the launch ramp.In the gradually brightening east, what seemed like a gigantic factory takes on its usual shape.This is not a plant or pipes.This is an ancient city and its thousands of towers.And they also begin to come to life.