| Drag the cot to the field,
|
| The smell of rotting clover,
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| And from the evening, like from a binge,
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| Fall face to the sky.
|
| Undead fighter after the fight
|
| Don't look east or west
|
| Reflect only the forest sun
|
| And do not believe, do not believe the clock!
|
| By an incomprehensible effort of will,
|
| Breaking the law of attraction
|
| Break away from the loose field
|
| And set the direction slightly.
|
| Like a cloud from rain, from pain
|
| Getting rid of as you move,
|
| Quietly swim to the bus stop and school
|
| And after saying goodbye, go to the clouds.
|
| Even if there is paradise outside the window,
|
| Even if there is honey for dinner,
|
| We are all dreaming of another land,
|
| The one that has been waiting for us for a long time.
|
| And fly, watching with my own eyes,
|
| Wonders of the geography of the world,
|
| And do not close your eyes even at night,
|
| From delight, being baptized on the go,
|
| Saluting the steamboats
|
| And other modes of transport,
|
| And wave from the clouds to pedestrians
|
| Somewhere in Tokyo and Kathmandu!
|
| Even if there is paradise outside the window,
|
| Even if there is honey for dinner,
|
| We are all dreaming of another land,
|
| The one that has been waiting for us for a long time.
|
| But maybe somewhere over the Pole
|
| Or in the snowy regions of the Pamirs,
|
| I understand that short summer
|
| Without you it turns into a day
|
| And I'll start to slow down imperceptibly,
|
| Unfold carefully over the world,
|
| And glides across the planet with ether
|
| Clamshell canvas shade.
|
| Even if there is paradise outside the window,
|
| Even if there is honey for dinner,
|
| I remember my native land
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| With the one who is waiting for you. |