Август

August divine month, ripe fruits of the earth, grapes, eggplant,
August green maples clearly shine on the celestial plane enamel
Summer comes last zharoyu, breaking into a thunderstorm, lurking in the fog,
Sweltering midday, oznobnye night, sick bird on crumpled blanket,
His eyes clouded birds, gray and gold eyes of a bird,
Bird breathing hoarse and hard, dark feathers it spread out,
The bird looks at me for a moment before you start dreaming about me,
And falling asleep, takes my hand weightless ghostly fingers.

How do you know about angels,
Tell funny
How they love what they eat, what sad,
And even if you did not like, I do not care anymore,
Traces of her weightless fingers on my skin burn.

Fall-tat Arachne, all one - obtained sticky network
North wind tears with my shingles and-so shaky roof
Once upon a time I wanted to save all injured in the ass on the planet,
But God rose to the occasion and I have not heard.
If only to learn how to throw open her cage, her return air
If only the time to look for her at the apothecary healing grain
in time, because the golden eyes are dim. It is too late,
Return it to the sky, and not die, and beat the wings of a palace Horn,

Leave her alone, my God,
Go away and forget.
Do not go into someone else's life, my God, will only get worse.
But when I think of her eyes, I did not sleep,
I only see her eyes, and the whole world to me nafig not needed.

August divine month, streams of meteorites, bats, too,
"August" - that word stuck in his throat as dirty blood clot
You're not a doctor, you're a charlatan, not a doctor, you have to help her in any way you can not,
How do you know how to die angels, whether it is empty!
None of these herbs to disrupt, weld, grind in honey and feed on
spoon.
Fall-Arachne looking through the lattice openwork foliage golden eyes,
But if I really see how these eyes veiled gray film,
Easier it would be if my head is broken on the gray stone.

Anathema betrayed the one who does not believe that in addition to the land, there is something else.
Betrayed anathema those who say that birds and angels have no soul.
I beg her - hold on.
I beg her - hold on.
I kiss her translucent hands and conjure - breathe.