You came up with a smile, old-fashioned
And turned away, not looked upon us,
And every guest, when he pleases,
Got up and joked, shoot – in a good hour!
And rose through another door – a chimera
And harmless shadow.
That night
Petrified, turned to gray
Granite Neva, but unable to help.
That shrunk, narrowed, blackened
Peddler, a woman, a German, grooms …
Here in the wind, not zapahnuv overcoat
Passed bony spirit of my anguish.

And I woke up a shadow otvetshaloy,
A picture of someone’s long years.
But to be yourself I still hampered
Someone else’s life, which no longer exists.

And you do not have to sail in a light waltz
And otpylavshey, ruining the youth.
And no matter how you argue, no setuy, no sorrow,
Neither rejoice – you no longer have –
Neither the past nor today, nor in the future,
Either in books nedochtennyh hurry …
You’re time Koshcheev zaviduschim,
Stolen.
But you in my verse.