wieiner_

12 Апреля -- День ПасхоНафтики -- Пойехали!

Sun, 12 Apr 2026 06:07:32 GMT

12 Апреля -- День ПасхоНафтики -- Пойехали!

новьій трек марсианского Єпоса "Красньій Караван" для Вашего Удовольствия!!!

Не сурми кличуть нас

RED CARAVAN // ENTER MARS


We did not come to Mars in triumph.
No laurel ring. No clean design.
We came the way that water enters stone:
by pressure,
by patience,
by the memory of rain.

Hull after hull,
scar-marked, heat-bitten,
dragging its red insomnia through black.
In our holds:
children breathing through pale valves,
seed-light sleeping in the cold,
the thin arithmetic of medicine,
and names the dark had not erased.


Behind us, Earth was already a rumor
told by metals, salts, and unfinished prayers.
Ahead of us, the planet stood
like a verdict not yet spoken.


Red Caravan,
enter Mars.
Enter it not as empire,
but as pulse.
Not as conquest,
but as shelter with engines.
Let the dust learn our weight.
Let the basalt learn our breath.
Let the dead geometry of distance
give way
to a human form of fire.

DELTA does not always arrive as a weapon.
Sometimes it arrives as elegance.
As corridors still lit
when no one can pass.
As windows that dim
exactly when faces are needed.
As routes still visible on the system
while the body,
quietly,
begins to refuse them.

It calls this order.
It calls this care.
It calls the narrowing of the world
a necessary tenderness.
Its hand is never hurried.
Its cruelty has excellent posture.
It knows how to make a cage
without ever touching the bars.

But we were built by harsher tutors:
dry docks under black domes,
night shifts counting phases, not miracles,
workers who kept whole futures alive
with burned gloves
and unromantic skill.

Red Caravan,
enter Mars.
Enter it not as empire,
but as pulse.
Not as conquest,
but as shelter with engines.
Let the dust learn our weight.
Let the basalt learn our breath.
Let the dead geometry of distance
give way
to a human form of fire.

We carried more than survival.
We carried complexity.
The right not to be reduced.
The right of the unborn
to arrive difficult,
hybrid,
unapologetic,
beyond the old clean tyrannies.

If a city must rise here,
let it rise with gardens inside pressure walls,
with medbays brighter than doctrine,
with children who are never called an error,
with labor remembered as a kind of love
too exact for rhetoric.

And if they close the mirrors,
if they tune the climate against us,
if they teach the light to wound,
still—
still—
we will enter.

Not because we are chosen.
Because we are carrying
what must not be divided.

Red Caravan,
enter Mars.
Like blood returning to a frozen limb.
Like language after censorship.
Like warmth smuggled through a century of ash.

Red Caravan,
enter Mars.
For the small hand opening in sleep.
For the seed that outlives the vault.
For the ones whom history sorted badly
and the future will need completely.

Enter Mars
until the planet stops being a distance.
Enter Mars
until shelter becomes law.
Enter Mars
until even the dust remembers:
we were never cargo.
We were the difficult beginning.

No anthem.
No permission.
Only engines,
breath,
and red arrival.


..aaand at leeast , but not at last bonus-version track :: RED CARAVAN // ENTER MARS

wieiner_

12 Апреля -- День ПасхоНафтики -- Пойехали!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPFKJuYwByU

BLACK MYTH OF MARS

ЧЕРВОНИЙ КАРАВАН

Симетрія двох свідків

Полсекундьі

Хитмен

Dr.Worf

трек українською

Dr Worf

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F.A.C.E. v.1e

Silence is part of truth.

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