Drop your hand in those long forgotten dreams,
and attend to the clear verse blindly,
then the mirrors of these warm tears in the late snowfall
will seem white.
Tear apart and melt the February cold,
hear the blue sky breathe much deeper,
at the break of dawn, it will rain lucky stars of your dreams.
White strip - a speck of light slips down the stream flow,
crisp melancholic sight feels somewhat blue.
music of falling leaves has little meaning,
still it wakes memories - so many, so few...
Open up your eyes feeling slumbers' ties -
Winter's petals flying through Summer.
Let your painting brush
touch the canvas, relieve you of thirst.
=== Eugene Borovikov - 12/30/1989, translation - 12/18/2002, 2/4/2009 ===