| It's quiet in Gagarin's office,
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| Quiet, quiet, the clock is not running.
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| Somewhere that fiery whirlwind flared up
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| And closed the blue star.
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| Only sightseers pass quietly
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| Only the moon will ring behind the curtain,
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| And floats in a weightless landing
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| Unending silence.
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| But Gagarin did not know peace,
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| He lived in the roar of powerful rockets
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| Both victories and bitter misfortunes
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| He met with a steering wheel in his hand.
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| And all those who broke with silence,
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| Who went along the starry road,
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| He led them behind his stern,
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| Though small, but an icebreaker.
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| I'm leaning over the edge of the table,
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| As if looking into an abyss without edge.
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| I smile and wonder
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| And I'm not ashamed of the surging tears.
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| Portraits silently look from the wall,
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| The lunar globe is frozen on the table,
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| And cathedrals stand like rockets,
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| On the old Smolensk land.
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| Again pulls damp meadows,
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| The star city subsides in the mist.
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| You see, Yuri Gagarin,
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| How sweet it is for me to stand in silence.
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| Because the dawn is roaring
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| Waking up in field hymns...
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| However, are you to tell this -
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| To a person from planet Earth. |