Night

At night, when the stars are low,
Web of lights is on the city.
Dream dawns on the river,
The old barn and the smell of cornflowers.
Night is singing. Under the trembling hand,
Comes to her first love.
Following is long and suffering,
Parting takes forever.
Greedy and tart kisses,
Exhale: you are a bitch.
And the separation will be only in the separation,
We appreciate frenzy of rare meetings.
And torments with thoughts of bitches
That stings worse than buckshot.