***

The glass globe is dusting,

Standing on the old table,

And I'm sweeping the surface,

Standing in dirty clothes.

The leg of the chair broke down,

The painting fell off the nail.

And I would have left this place,

But it's inside me.

I will open the dusty curtains,

Hoping to open a window.

But an ancient frame fell out,

And the wind's been in the apartment for a long time.

A latch fell off the door,

When I was bringing in the laundry.

Recently, my cat ran away,

Didn't I love it?

Yellow-worn houses windows

They're frozen in my eyes.

And the dug-in tires,

Scattered around the yards.

There are gloomy people walking there,

Just like me.

Their eyes are as sad as the sky,

Like the sky in time of rain.

They lost hope.

In the autumn Soviet yards.

They have forgotten the desire,

Living in their hearts.

In my house, the walls are crumbling,

And the ceilings are also flowing.

There are cockroaches in the apartment,

In fear of sunlight.

I ran out of money,

The lights aren't on anymore.

And I am using candles,

And that's how I write the verse.

One day the tickets will come.

Beautiful white envelope.

I will read a line with the addressee,

It has a name in it, Death.

Born with the sunset,

With the sunset, we'll leave.

They will find us one day in our flats,

With a happy, blissful face.

There is a dusty glass globe,

Standing on the old table.

And I'm lying there without breathing,

In the gray shredded clothes.

The leg of the chair broke down,

The Leader's painting fell.

And I'm lying without breathing,

Here since the last year...