Like a quiet child, caressed the darkness,
With infinite languor in wandering gaze,
You stood at the window. In the corridor
Someone's a hasty step – not my!
Door opened… Frosty wind stream…
The smell of freshness, happiness… forgotten alarm…
moment of silence, and now on the verge of
Someone laughs weakly – not me!
trams shadow, like before, runs along the wall,
The noise of the orchestra at the bottom of caution and muffled…
– “Let merge without words our souls!”
You excitedly whispering – not for me!
– “How many books!.. It seemed to me… No need to fire:
So Uyutna – Now forgot all the words I”…
See the shadow of runaway tram
On the couch with you – not me!