It was hard to start again
To the execution of a severe debt,
To the worship of a forgotten Viennese,
But they were waiting for,
AND, Sadness, laughed soul
Belated their expectations.
I walked around the house,
I shook the hands of former comrades,
But they do not know me.
Finally, For a huge barrel
(True beer), on a narrow bench
I noticed sitting
Old men and women.
And the eyes discerned crowns,
Tarnished air rusty,
On the green and ancient curls.
There were centuries they,
Waiting for the usual bows,
Slightly nodding in response to the aliens.
Surpassing all who were sitting on benches,
I bowed kings;
And according to the old deep wrinkles
I ran a tired shadow;
And as usual grand gesture
Kings told me to stay.
And then, turned,
I saw the last shop
In the darkest corner.
There, on the bench uneven and shaky,
Sat motionless man,
Resting his elbows on his knees,
Propping up her face.
Was seen, what he, not aging,
without changing, and thinking a thought,
Progrustil century here,
So the members of stiff,
And now, doomed, is sitting
For one and the same Meanwhile Duma
And by the same mug for beer,
He is standing next to him on the bench.
And when I went up to him,
He did not raise his face, I did not answer
As a gift, and he did not move his hand.
I just realized, quietly peered
In the depth of his dull eyes,
That I, how he, destined
I sit here - the unfinished circles,
In the darkest corner.
I am to the same council,
Just hand me a need to lay down,
Just dull eyes forward
At the far corner of the hut,
Where he is sitting under a flickering light,
During the royal couple's nap,
For usnuvshey druzhynoy,
For taking the yarn -
Princess forgotten country,
What is called the Night Violet.
