| I'm lying, sleeplessly looking at the ceiling,
|
| Persuading himself to sleep.
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| I could not grow up for so many years,
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| I only managed to fall behind the others.
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| This earthly woman does not give
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| I have no hope, but in the meantime,
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| If I'm around, she always sings
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| And if I disappear, it will stop. |
| What for?
|
| And summer spins the seeds,
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| The poplars that fell at noon,
|
| And I keep toiling, losing time,
|
| And I still miss my planet.
|
| I buy again asters from the subway,
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| Like an ordinary earthling among earthlings,
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| And she already made a pie
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| From some berries from sunny meadows.
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| We will have dinner and drink ripened kvass,
|
| And when he asks to sing and I will sing,
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| Then he will cry, not restraining himself for the hundredth time,
|
| Knowing someone else's life and one's own.
|
| And summer is spinning seeds,
|
| The poplars that fell at noon,
|
| I'm already trying to lie, but that's the trouble -
|
| It doesn't work out more fun yet.
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| All about vodka, but cold as snow,
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| About dumplings, about a trifling conversation.
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| Yes, about the fact that forty winters are here on earth
|
| Every day I drag someone's life like a thief.
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| I used up all the napkins in the dining room,
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| About the dull endless ride.
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| I would spit, I've been tired for a long time
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| Yes, I returned to a distant star.
|
| But this woman is alone
|
| She doesn't tell me - it's all about her.
|
| And endlessly the summer spins the seeds,
|
| The poplars who sighed at noon by the road... |