| You wake up as if there were no these hours | 
| Spent in colored oblivion, | 
| Today's cigarettes, yesterday's tea, | 
| Last year's snow, but eternal dullness | 
| Your feet carry you to those you never knew about, | 
| Own - not their own | 
| There is not enough living, so any undead | 
| Humanized by you | 
| In accidental unconsciousness inside yourself, and there | 
| Airless and crowded | 
| Something gray is booming, knocking loudly and pricking with a needle | 
| Time is slowly dripping on the crown, | 
| The voice is loud and cracked | 
| I just want silence | 
| But you live until the night | 
| And only silence will sink you to the bottom, | 
| And on this day the window | 
| From that window | 
| Heard | 
| Only silence | 
| Cities come alive in you | 
| You are the master over them, you have a magic beard, | 
| At least you are Hottabych, okay, not God, | 
| You are only a miracle, not a miracle worker. | 
| Rise above, become... | 
| Darkness is no, hell is yes | 
| You | 
| Rearrange, replay | 
| Pretending to be the wind | 
| With the only difference, you are not a vector of addiction, no, | 
| But the source | 
| You exude current, you look - right? | 
| Like so. | 
| Rejoice. | 
| Duc! | 
| To bend - from the word rot - you are convinced | 
| your spine | 
| Straight as a pipe, like Mayakovsky's flute, | 
| You are the best heavenly guide, | 
| plays in you | 
| Silence… | 
| Will sink you to the bottom | 
| And on this day there is a window, from that window you can hear | 
| Silence is lighter than light | 
| Will sink you to the bottom |