[Painter]

Сообщение от Cyril Syzran

It 's more like a turn to the transfer of the Crosses or Butyrka .
And if ever in this country
Decides to erect a monument to me ,

I give consent to this celebration,
But only with the condition - not to put it

Neither the sea, where I was born:
Last connection with the sea is broken ,

Neither in the royal garden at the promised stump
Where is inconsolable shadow looks for me

But here, where I stood three hundred hours
And where, for me not to open the bolt.

Then, as in the death of blessed I am afraid
Forget black rumble marus ,

Forget how hateful slamming the door
And the old woman howled like a wounded animal .

And let with fixed and bronze age
As tears streamed melted snow,

And let the dove prison gulit away ,
And silently walk along the Neva River boats . ( a )

Bravo Cyrus ill >