"Волки уходят лунными тропами, туда, где в полночь распускаются золотые звезды"
***

Fly to the Moon…

It takes apart,

In afternoon,

Oh, broken heart.



I know as well,

As understand.

Imagine hell

And take the end.



A time to play

This game we’ll lose.

We must to pay,

We must to choose…



A melting snow

On frozen lips,

I’ll do a bow,

Don’t want to miss.



Then Demon steals

My heart away

I am his meals,

But what I may?



Just only my

Small bit of peace

In raining sky

I never miss…