Gold edged moon,
The smell of oleander and wallflowers.
Good wander among the rest
Blue and gentle country.
Far away there Baghdad,
Where she lived and sang Scheherazade.
But now she does not need anything.
Has rung for a long time zvenevshy garden.
The ghosts of distant lands
Kladbyschenskoy overgrown grass.
But you, traveler, dead do not give ear,
Not sklonyaysya head for plates.
Ohlyanys, as a good friend:
Lips to roses and pulls, pulling.
Reconciled only in the heart of the enemy -
And you bliss oshafranit.
To live - to live, love - so to fall in love
In the moonlight gold kiss your and walk,
Well if you want to worship the dead,
Then the dream alive do not poison.
It sang even Scheherazade, –
So the second time say leaves copper.
Those, who do not have anything,
Only possible in the world of regret.
