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But, wheezing, the shadow answers
Stop it Stop it Don't
It's night in the world There will be day in the world
And spring is a reward for snow
Come out Kolobrod Ataman
The grasses are trembling, the roads are waiting for you

You're used to shutting yourself out from life.
Behind the sad fun of the frenzy
All your friends are hateful
For you from a hangover

Although you are young, you are an old man at heart
And not without reason
Sick from fatigue of body and spirit
You go to the sofa and have a nightmare

Either the delirium of a madman, or the light of insight
You see a shadow far away from you
Shadow of himself, shadow of the poet of oblivion
The heart is blinded by bright fire

But, wheezing, the shadow answers
Stop it Stop it Don't
It's night in the world There will be day in the world
And spring is a reward for snow
Come out Kolobrod Ataman
The grass is trembling, the roads are waiting for you

You are the poet of deserted havens
Those people who chose vulgarity
And the peace of philistine cemeteries
Blind life is simple submission

The eyes of a ghost of a cruel shadow
They burned you from the inside
The whole underside of the lonely soul
Turning out on altars

Not capable of what you ask
You answer her rashly
You're annoying me in vain
My poet went out like a candle

But, wheezing, the shadow answers
Stop it Stop it Don't
It's night in the world There will be day in the world
And spring is a reward for snow
Come out Kolobrod Ataman
The grass is trembling, the roads are waiting for you


You are the poet of unborn distances
You walk inhaling the wind
There's no room for stupid sorrows
You are free to answer