Париж. С.Зыков (сл. Кирилл Ривель, муз Сергей Зыков) 

Kirill Igorevich Rivet In an officer's greatcoat, roughly patched, In a soldier's way, killed in the Crimea by an orderly (Give him a girl in the next world, And the land, and the house, too... give him at least this!), I do not enter Paris as a soldier or as a prisoner. I am a civilian, I am ex-everywhere and nowhere! And my citizenship is just white foam On the cold, native black sea water! I enter as a winner, or rather, just enter, of course… It was a hundred years ago when my great-great-great-grandfather won! But the Parisian gendarme saw it - Third class, from Marseille. Gare de Lyon. Nansen's Passport. So. Without a centime in your pocket. Officer, although I've seen a lot of greatcoats. What kind of ally was yesterday! I myself-with a sedan, In bayonets went the damned Germans! All this I read in the eyes of the gendarme. Saluting, he returned the documents: Bon chance! I clicked my heels in greeting, And went to the exit, followed by Bel France! Two wars - where the hell were we? We baptized the snow and grass with blood! I'm nobody today! emigrant from Russia… I came to Paris, but I really wanted to ... to Moscow! My God! I know I'm a sinner, but this is too much! I took a SIP of vodka from the flask on Rue, To lie not in the soil of Paris … Aleksandrovsk, Kakhovka, although b-Perekop! I remember good fights, more serious fights, And shrapnel volleys at point-blank range all along the chain! And the hut is burning, and the air is frosty… And Cossack lavas on the white steppe… And then... steamers, farewell sirens… We were standing on the deck as if in a delirium! I don't have any Russia... only white foam, Black sea foam in the twentieth year! ... The battalion commander must be upset! Tea, kornilovtsy waiting for a set table! For Russia we will pour, for colored shoulder straps… And then to Paris... a shelter, but not a home!