| The sky will shine through tomorrow
|
| The big moon will fade
|
| Will you admire the fire by the fire,
|
| Not a bride yet, not a wife.
|
| And you still won't feel sorry for yourself,
|
| Yes, and it's too early to regret something,
|
| And earthly sadness has not yet touched
|
| Those skinny girlish shoulders.
|
| It will fall on spruces in heavy rain
|
| Weightless, dense starfall,
|
| Will you speak passionately about anything,
|
| Out of place, out of place, out of place.
|
| Through the glass door open in the field
|
| A cornflower blue dawn will wander.
|
| It will be terrifying with joy and loss,
|
| And someone's advice will be funny.
|
| It will be as the stubborn soul wants,
|
| And rumors of condemnation, and shame,
|
| And you want to run away to a distant city
|
| And burn all the sheets and bridges.
|
| A curl will flow down the tan of the shoulder
|
| In the dance of the glare of the blind rain,
|
| There will be clocks with him knocking in the rhythm of the pulse
|
| And be silent when he is without you.
|
| And then they will fall on the roof of the snow,
|
| And blizzard to sing a lullaby.
|
| Snow and trouble will look through the windows,
|
| The sleds will creak in the snow.
|
| Speech will become wiser, and a smile is stingy,
|
| And weaker New Year's dope.
|
| Your son will accompany the girl home
|
| Fog through the neon streets.
|
| You will wait, you will look out the window for a long time,
|
| And do not fall asleep until the morning,
|
| And over the silent forest the satellite will fly,
|
| Someone will sit by the fire.
|
| And over the silent forest the satellite will fly... |