My cup is bottomless .
I wanted to get drunk , well found
And scooped water , brought it to his lips ,
But not my cup bottom.
Across the road I got a river,
Me whispering its shores .
I wanted to swim away , I went into the boat ,
But my boat no oars.
I wanted to call his voice was gone .
Only gray owls flocked to the call .
He did not hear me , did not recognize me ,
Now my song no words.
But this is not terrible, but terribly ,
What is not a dream , there is no end .
I stand under the stars in a leaky coat
And to me , O Lord, no face.
And in this town do not smell flowers,
And this is even scarier .
And these window blind as moles,
But these trees are not allowed roots.
And in the newspapers , it was spring .
In the papers , mainly about spring .
And my cup no bottom ,
But I, O Lord, at the very bottom .
I lie like a cat curled up in a bun ,
A star is not visible due to swarms of clouds .
I look through her lashes on pink ball
Which stretches from one ray .
