Now my town shot your sentence - a powerful, optical, maples turned into loaf,
branches belly compress and frazy- sappers
again undermine happiness, blown support,
and without mercy and pity muffle my cries.
Now my city covered with prickly fence,
a high-voltage discharge, a fatal end.
The trial run - what die ... fragments of the gate ...
I wait out, you go ... All subside, and soon
will then, as long as I zaroyus mole ...
Later soul neighborhoods are empty, as the Pripyat
after a sudden explosion in arrays dumb ...
Will walk drafts between shibok and howl, and
misery blessed memory ... will only live
red poppies at the former city We ...
... If you want to come to the ruins and a drink,
Met you, (because no one else and exit),
Red poppies at the former town we ...