He was listed, he fellow hearts,
What you need to return, even if not to the place,
At least then to part with me again.
... in November we especially pulls home ...
And there was a vision of him at dawn,
That drove him in the back shining wind,
And where he stood, the hills turned in Moscow.
... in November we especially pulls home ...
There was still time to think and spit,
But in old houses have already touched strings,
As a year, the one when this chunk was cut off.
... in November we especially pulls home
He was waiting for cold, fog and slush,
In the dark entrances called the flesh
And all that, as he understood, was called fate.
... in November we especially pulls home ...
Steps his knock was distinuished and pity
In the wells of the courtyards, in the emptiness of the communal
And in memory that has become a long-term group.
... in November we especially pulls home
He walked, as in a dream, where Blesley churches
And the wet rails slid into the alleys,
He walked to the depth, house behind the house, line behind the row.
... in November we especially pulls home
Crucified in the vicinity of the house,
At the crossroads, before pain, a familiar,
He waited for Sunday, the whole night of the moon.
... in November we especially pulls home
Dawn, like smoke, plenty of poles,
And he did not enter, he remained homeless
He came up and his eyes suddenly discolored in winter.
... in November we especially pulls home
He went with a feeling of escape,
Touching under Savan first snow,
But the chain just stretched out again for a year.
... in November we especially pulls home