by Boris Grebenshikov
Yangtze in the fog
Yangtze in the fog
It smells like a fur
Of the heavenly fox
I threw out the compass
And trampled the clock
And went for a walk
On Yangtze in the fog
The fog on the river
The fog on the field
Had covered believers
Like a cloudy shield
And everyone rambled
From A to the Z
And everyone’s lost
In the fog of Yangtze
I was just like them
Hardcovered and split
Then read Tao Te Ching
And tumbled to it
I burned my penthouse
Ate grapes from withy
And came out for dance
In the fog of Yangtze
Tell me in the South
Tell me in the North
The secret of China
What’s wisdom and force
And is it alright
That old man and young
Drinks like a fish
From the cups of the Tang
We all are the fruits
Of the Mondial tree
I don’t know where you
I don’t know where me
Who’s merry is old
And who’s gloomy is young
And everyone wonders
What the heck is this song
I will dance, I will sing
And God’s everywhere
I am my own yogi
I am my own prayer
I am my own Sufi
In my own synagogue
My heart in the glory
My head in the fog
Comments