We part at the last hour of this autumn,
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We, alas, failed to reach the borders,
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Two snowflakes are carried away from each other,
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In different books we lay down on the fabric of the pages.
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Let's touch winter with two simple chords,
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Failed to comprehend her turns,
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We part so proud, proud,
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Already lost to each other.
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In the world of midnight silence,
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And no one will cry for us,
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When we die with no hope of resurrection.
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Only sound will remain in the world
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The touch of our hands
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On the very edge of these stone stairs.
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And I will sing, but only the sound will remain
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The touch of gentle hands
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On the edge...
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The night divided the world into pieces and we already
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Do not touch frozen eyes,
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Led astray, out of the blue, confused
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I no longer hear steps and phrases at all.
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I will scream and go, mixing tears with snow,
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Wrapped up chilly in a coat like a shawl,
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And from above on my shoulders the sky falls painfully
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And it crashes next to the asphalt.
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There is midnight silence in the world.
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And no one will cry for us,
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When we die with no hope of resurrection,
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Only sound will remain in the world
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The touch of our hands
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And I will sing, but only the sound will remain
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The touch of gentle hands
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On the edge...
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And the steps look at the city,
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There are only doors and curtains.
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And the passerby, who froze on the run,
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And the director's keen eye.
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And steps as part of the scenery,
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As the main part of the scenery,
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But you and I cannot climb them,
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Never climb anywhere.
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There is midnight silence in the world.
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And no one will cry for us,
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When we die with no hope of resurrection.
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Only sound will remain in the world
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The touch of our hands
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On the very edge of these stone stairs,
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And I will sing, but only the sound will remain
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The touch of gentle hands
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On the edge... |