When the squadron arrived in the city, time of generous changes began
Local people enjoyed their holidays, the flowers languished again
Life was peaceful, yet stagy and strained, like in movies where trap is ahead
On the face of the tower clock it was Noon of some past day, when all had
been mad
Meditatively looking around, Cap Voronin was nibbling at grass
He knew that his folks heard subdued quiet clatter, and besides, saw
reflection in glass
Soldiers treated him as their old and wise father, they always relied upon him
Because he was famous for his thoughtful pace plus the talent to work in a team
I remember the three daredevils, who agreed at the drop of a hat
The first one was Sailor Jerry the Piper, the second was Indian Spearhead
The third brave scout had no name at all, couple thousand years he served
Having narrowed his eyelids like film star Clint Eastwood, horsemen's trot
Cap Voronin observed
Waiting for them to get back took even less time, than waiting in winter for
spring
As a rule, bad news hop like invisible fleas, as for good ones - they're a
clear-cut thing
Once the cloud of dust did emerge far beyond, where houses stepped off the lane,
Grandpa Basil pronounced, having got real dopey, "At last all of us went
insane!"
The rider arrived, got off his foamy horse, staggered few steps and fell on
his knee
The friends took him closer to Captain Voronin, whose face was all radiance
of glee
And the weary rider said, "I could tell stories, of what I have seen, for a
year!
The thing is, no one except us knew of exit, of front door even we weren't
aware-"
Each person, performing the mermaid's dances has someone who walks across sea
And each is a tall tree with roots under ground and nothing else anywhere to be
But trees grow upward and no other way, so no one has right to change that
Sun's amiably treating the Moon in the skies, their friendship is clear, I bet!
No doubt, just birds in heaven and fish in water know the truth
But you won't get key stories in papers or cable, nor will you find them at
any booth
And maybe the city was named Shepetovka and maybe its name was Quebec
Yet those guys who once got in there, could hardly find their way back
So, no sense sobbing and whining, no grounds for this rueful mood
Our heart is the only thread to get rescued, 'cause our mind did us no good
But the heart needs vast spaces and firm roots forever, it will fade away,
keeping aloof
As a boy, who somehow was there, admitted, "We will change and become
timeproof."
