County, county, county,
so little remains for myself,
prevent death in a warm cup
this bitterness and hunger, and the sun.
What will become of her, with love to you,
nothing, add everything, you will not get tired,
leave nothing to fate,
too thirsty in Kazakhstan.
So far, how smart is enough
do not understand, so at least remember,
leave for words, For Home,
behind the great backs of friends.
For the first time, this time, for the hundredth time
regretting the future, rarely
realizing, that each of us
remains the same
human, who is used to,
conquering myself by trains,
spread across the ground, like a cry,
disappearing forever in the dark.
