The sun embalms my decaying thoughts,
While history pirouettes the yawning walls.
Friendship searches the long lost spark.
The memory of you torments the humans in us,
Yet forever my soul longs to be redeemed.
Enough are the castigating words that murder
The smiles of the delicate spirits in a timeless day.
Enough are the drums that tumult the peace of the sleep-deprived heart!
Enough are the pictures that rip the thin threads of truth.
For tears have sanctified the moments.
There is grace in hope that beams from the smile of a bouquet-holding lady.
I will be wed with the future of my fine and handsome world.
~Do pobachennya, Moscow.