Good to see you, my friend,
And please, go away.
I'm waiting for someone, so to say,
And...
See, I'm gazing at the sun, pulsing with rings.
I'm staring at the moon and still the same thing:
One after another,
In and out.
A street lamp radiates the same circles.
Can it somehow have no meaning?
I mean, do you have any strange feeling?
Stars scattered over the sky – fine!
But this phenomenon is way more divine.
See – fleas crossing over the steppe,
Making leap after leap.
I mean, we're not heading the same way,
Day grows old, no time to stay.
And don't ask who I'm waiting for,
Who I've searched for so long, knocking at every door.
I know there is nobody to open.
Still, I keep trying.
Because there is a watchman far away.
He watches the piercing cold all his endless day.
His wife cries, his babies cry.
He'd also cry, but his tears would freeze,
And nobody would melt them with their warm breath.
This story, however, has no more point
Than our meeting here.
Still, as I said, I enjoyed it.
But please, go away.