Sometimes expressing words is hard,
We have to change the way we deal
And try to use the worldwide art:
Create a poem, picture, film.
Sometimes it's even harder though
To warble like a nightingale
With common sounds yelling. So
Goodbye, my Russian jangles. Vale!
I hope I won't be understood
By those of whom I tired to death.
I'm telling them that all is good
But inner soul's lack of strength.
And sadly, this is our fate
To hide the real wistful feeling:
You have to close your spirit's gate
And live in phoney way of being.
The thinker's going be alone
That was, that is, that will be same.
With parents child is up to grow,
With no one adult split the game.
And still, I have some costly wealth
The choice is simple more of less:
To live in rapport with yourself
Or suffer from the loneliness