May I leave this city…
Tosca involuntary squeezes
my heart. I would stay glad.
What will be there, soul knows…
There - a new onslaught of storms and troubles,
My longing - to pledge.
In the deep gloom coming years
How do I surrender to roads?
Here - in the light of the day, in the darkness of night
The soul is fought, perished,
again vospryanuv, his peace
Unable to return, declined
The anxiety of the urban
And reaching bottom, lifted
Its delicate color of the black mist -
So - no end, so - without beginning…
Or raging blood
It gave rise to new love?
Or in agony and anxiety mystery
And a combination of rigorous Numbers
Lurked the - extraordinary,
the joyful, great meaning?
Yes, Yes! My native flour
I swear, a fire of love
burned, burns in my blood!
My longing - as porukoy!
