Among the noisy children and magican's shuffles
I'm taking Brodsky's book, my youthless, from shelves
I'm turning dusty pages kind of a madman,
Jugged lines are dancing, my breath's tailing off.
I can not express in words, I will tell Brodsky,
I will speak brightly, that I feel simple way.
The world has became plain for a moment,
There wans't those filth, that make my life lane.