On the wet asphalt people in droves, everyone inside is a king,
Carnival of vanity with fate and each other in dispute,
And you are stomping somewhere in sneakers, wearing rock and roll headphones,
And the fire in your hair, and the sea turns blue in your eyes.
By a lonely boat in floating ice, they'll be screwed up in a moment, they won't notice how,
Life will split the shell of your little world soon,
It will be painful and cold forever, but while everything is in your hands,
Take your headphones out, girl, listen to the city.
The voice tickles sweetly in the crown of the head like a velvety tenor, but
The batteries are gone - your companion, alas, is not eternal.
And you won't notice at all, hiding from time behind a sound wall,
Like a maniac, a purple evening will sneak up on you.
The palm will catch the wind's throat, the darkness will wind the scarf on the face.
Call for help? Silence? Run? It's too late to figure it out.
But you are on the first page, and then you will rewrite with the other end,
Get off the asphalt, girl, look at the stars
And around passers-by, in jeans and leather,
And they seem to be all in parallel,
That the sun is higher, that the stitch is embroidered
Above each roof: "People, April!"
Yes, and you are still exactly the same -
You press the keys of the player thoughtlessly
And there is still time left, but very little,
Believe me, you're about to be late ...
So far, you are just a walking stamp, a gear of a crowd of people,
A fire among the coals that have long been burned out,
But you still want freedom where others seek peace
Spit out the gum, girl, come on - breathe April!
