Are you, my sun, despair?
Are you a bright bird of the month?
Your eyes, Your eyes are endless
In my centuries, the centuries of mine, they will fit? .. ..
And flew quietly, flew the swallow,
And the lips fell, fell injured.
Is it you, you, or it is me already,
Whether you, I, and on the lumen sad.
And everything hears me,
And everything is careless,
And forever dreams of me
Yes, everything is not eternal,
So wake me up
Butterfly bite.
Tired girls,
Boys disappeared.
Is it you, my sea, tomorrow?
Are you, the stars on the body of joy?
Is it a holiday blessing
In a roller roller, a rack of a rampant idleness.
Or this forest bowed unguards,
Or this wind froze in the ignorant
Or is it all turned into a dove,
The pigeon was silent, ranked with singing.