483
Renounce
< Anshe
Renounce waterbus from note-pads,
do not look for the lights on the water under the bridges are cut.
I'm not up the river - I already go places,
for which you do not go, do not fly, not crawling, not stomping.
Let routes, forget it, preventing a detective,
The broken glass, not lie to me under the train rails Nenov.
And not merznu at my feet, do not tremble, come warm yourself better,
There, where the sun is yours, where he sang nectarine, apricot and plum.
And do not lie plyuysya and rhyme, so long waiting for poets,
Ten has changed, and I have for years savvy steel.
Do not write about us, I love spring, longing, sadness,
And for a long time to tread quite distant edge of the world ...
The safe is empty, only ashes and gnashing of old scribbler,
childhood laughter, silliness, our delusions bels on the walls.
Yes, we have grown and begun to live in the blood of a skinned knee,
Only sometimes it again scratched night old scars ...
Renounce waterbus from note-pads,
do not look for the lights on the water under the bridges are cut.
I'm not up the river - I already go places,
for which you do not go, do not fly, not crawling, not stomping.
Let routes, forget it, preventing a detective,
The broken glass, not lie to me under the train rails Nenov.
And not merznu at my feet, do not tremble, come warm yourself better,
There, where the sun is yours, where he sang nectarine, apricot and plum.
And do not lie plyuysya and rhyme, so long waiting for poets,
Ten has changed, and I have for years savvy steel.
Do not write about us, I love spring, longing, sadness,
And for a long time to tread quite distant edge of the world ...
The safe is empty, only ashes and gnashing of old scribbler,
childhood laughter, silliness, our delusions bels on the walls.
Yes, we have grown and begun to live in the blood of a skinned knee,
Only sometimes it again scratched night old scars ...