That’s again time to mushroom in wood.
Rare calm in the ballabaloo.
Until morning again one may fly
Over Moscow that stands paralyzed.
It is not realized my threshold.
I shall stand by the window? Pray here.
Drinking up sacramental blue smog
Town lights up the stars chandelier.
And pushing from the window cross my weight get lost
Like shade of leaf in that of bight trees.
As if the courtyard’s well is shrank, decreased. Confusedly I leave
That is with flocks of colored dried wind up child’s napkins.
Afterwards I continue my flight
Over widow Taganka canal.
Any skyscraper as a cheval-
Glass will mirror the golden sunlight.
I shall count my circle in the sky
And I’ll dance on the walls as on ice.
Anywhere I shall look for you.
I am likely again not to do.
We did not see each other after all.
And as soon as you will be found.
In any yellow empty street I learn you no trouble at all.
And you seeing me in the sky will smile past doubt.
That’s the way for a long time ago
Over Moscow where I whir and mill.
As if I take my favorite film
Of that bow I’ll chance you upon.
And coming back for a long time I don’t sleep
I sing and drink and there melts summer
Let anybody knocks to me I don’t open hangar
In drink condition aviator does not fly.