When the detachment entered the town,
It was the time of peoples' kindness.
The inhabitants had gone on a vacation,
The flowers were languishing in the square.
Everything was unnaturally peaceful-
Like in a movie, when a trap is in store.
The clock on the towered been for a long time striking midday
Of some gone day.
Captain Voronin was chewing a grass
Looking around deep in thought.
He knew that everyone saw the reflection in the glass
And everyone heard an unnatural sound.
People believed him like a father-
They knew who was to decide everything.
He was known as the one who was never in a hurry
When there was no longer anywhere to hurry to.
I remember who volunteered to go the first-
I will tell you their names-
The sailor Ivan Trubnikov and the Indian Point of the Log.
The third one did not have any name,
But he did have a length of service of 1.5 thousand years.
And with the eyes narrowed in Klint Eastwood's manner,
Captain Voronin was following them with his eyes.
He didn't have to wait long-
Not longer than to wait in winter for spring.
Bad news is jumping like fleas,
While good news is clear as is.
And when a cloud of dust appeared
Where the houses parted,
Old Vasily said, finally out of his wits :
" At last we've gone out of our minds ".
The arrived man jumped off his horse,
Swayed and fell back.
He was taken up to the captain,
And suddenly it was seen
That Voronin was glad.
And the arrived said :
"Of what I have seen
I could be talking for a whole year.
The essence is that no one except for us
Knew where the exit is here,
And even we did not know where the entrance is."
For everyone dancing the dance of the mermaids
There's the one who is walking on water.
And each man-he's a tree,
He's from here, and he's nowhere else.
And if the tree is growing, it grows upwards,
And none's got the power to change it.
The Moon and the Sun do not feud in the skies,
And now I can understand them.
Perhaps, only birds in the sky
And fishes in the sea know who's right.
But we know that the main things are not written about in papers,
And the telegraph is silent about the main things.
And probably the name of the town was Malpaso, or maybe Matroynin Posad,
But of those who got there
No one has ever come back.
So there's no cause to cry,
No reason for bitter thoughts.
Now only the heart can save us,
Because the mind has already failed to save us.
And the heart needs the sky and the roots,
It cannot live in emptiness.
As a boy said, who happened to be around by chance:
From now on, we, all of us shall be different."