It's a bird.
Look at it.
It is me.
Not a tomtit,
Not a bullfinch.
I'm a Sirin.
Count my wings.
Do you see?
Do you see?
There are three,
Three white wings.
Look at me.
It's a mask,
Not a face.
Do not touch.
I will tell
You a tale
About Punch.
It is true.
It's my fate.
It's not false.
This old tale
Is a blade.
Let us toss
Who should stab
This sharp blade
Into me.
On your lap
Is a bird.
Do you see?
I am scratching
your hand and your arm
With my sharp claws
and pecking your palm.
I'm not singing
about love. I'm mute.
`Cause for me now
love means only you.
17.03.2011 (tr. “Любовь — это ты»)