Память о небе

You do not ask about it,
Well, I did not tell you,
I have white wings,
I'm used to them flying.

In the wardrobe of dresses hanging between,
Accrete dust of the earth.
I give them white birds
Meanwhile, I wait for spring.

I would have to forget about the wind,
On the distant beautiful rocks,
I would sit in a soft chair,
I have a sweater you knit.

I learn to smile,
Entertain guests in conversation,
I would sing other songs,
Those that are better chorus.

Cradle to shake her in the nursery,
About thought bread bread
I would have fared better with the role,
But it prevents the memory of the sky

That night I dreamed again
Dying planet,
There used to be shining river
And flowers bloom in summer ...

I would give wings to the birds,
What are flying to the shores of the azure,
But burning unearthly radiance
On the wrist ring of Saturn.

Float down as before,
Again, the mountains and over the steppe ...
I would become your wife,
But it prevents the memory of the sky