I saw rain, though possibly it was snow,
But I was embarrassed and could not open my eyes till the morning.
One more moment, and the one who's holding the threads will be seen.
But the stairs go upwards, and wind endlessly, that is our fault.
There are always lots of correct words in the books,
But every night I see everything as if for the first time.
No one will be able to lead me out of this tangle of the railing,
But the one who's looking at me from the darkness of the stair wells
Has not heard about wings, and
She does not know that these are dreams.
Each step of mine is figured out like yours,
And this is already the reason not to believe words.
Each of my letters's been read here just as well as there,
But I want to tell you,
You may not believe me, but
You should know, it is right-
She does not know that these are dreams.
She does not know that these are dreams.
