Swallows with nothing, just come with nests right above your shoulder,
We stand, overlooking, under the roof, I inhale the air, and you breathe them,
Barge buzzed, someone chews Kumkvat, and you are remembered to look at the dial.
I will give anything, and anything with me to barge gogets now on the bottom,
To all around plunge into white fog kissel, so that this minute is how to flow from the crane,
No matter how choking nor heal, did not end, and the waves of the berth belt went from the droplets.
Nonsense, and this is my corrida, from the window, seeing different types:
And Horcane Magritte, and Redi-Maid, - Not a trace of defeats, nor the list of victories,
Neither a large garden with a balcony porch, inxicated with warm mulled don.
I'm deadly sad that we do not meet again with Peter, nor with Pavl, nor with the righteous joy,
I squeeze into a handful of what was a word, so the cross is crashed to blood.
The light fills and becomes the background, the sounds are stupid, the numbers are scattered with numbers of phones,
For which no bread crumbs, but the names, without a double meaning, without the second bottom.
I ask you to leave me everything as it is: and love love, and tin tice,
And the repentance of a candle of the nucleus, so that it was where to pay.
