I.A.
No more painful doubts:
you'll read my lines.
we are much closer than last year.
Papers like your name,
but as you asked me once
I don't really trust them.
Streets are gilded up by September.
The matter is that I still remember...
What a pity I'm poor in singing
'cause I would be happy
to rush into your silence
with my voice and a guitar
where my age and your finance
will be never considered;
to tell you many stories,
true or funny, shall I?..
Could you the star falling?
Have you made a wish, bella?
Maybe, in a couple hundred years
you will also find my name in press...
Moscow is burnt out by September.
The matter is that I still remember...
2008. September, of course