Всю ночь кричали петухи 
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Всю ночь кричали петухи
И шеями мотали, 
Как будто белые стихи,
Закрыв глаза, читали. 

И было что-то в крике том
От горькой той кручины,
Когда под утро входят в дом,
Стыдя себя, мужчины.

И был тот крик далёк-далёк
И падал так же мимо,
Как гладят, глядя в потолок, 
Чужих и нелюбимых,

Когда ласкать уже невмочь
И отказаться трудно, 
И оттого всю ночь, всю ночь
Не наступает утро...                             

Булат Окуджава, 1961 

---

All night the roosters uttered cries,
and swayed their necks like crazy,
as if they were reading rhymes
declaiming in a frenzy.

And in those cries there was the kind
of bitterness, aroused
by the unwanted man's defiant
appearance in the house.

Far-far away the crowing rang,
inept and unavailing,
like the caressing of a man
who has become an alien

when she's unable to caress
and chary of refusing...
And thus the night dragged on like blessed,
unending and confusing.  
   

A.S. Vagapov 

---

Roosters were crowing all night long
And shaking necks and swinging,  
As if they sang a blank verse song, 
Closing their eyes, while singing.

And there was something in that cry
From sad and bitter mourning,  
Like men return ashamed and shy 
Back home towards morning.   

This cry was flying far above
And caused that sorrow feeling, 
Like you're caressing one unloved 
While staring at the ceiling, 

'Tis hard to stroke without lust
And hard to close down.                         
That 's why the night yet lasts and lasts 
With no sign of dawn.                             

VG, 1986 и 30 июня 2012