Полина Агуреева

I’ll bring back from the future,
I’ll put it into a ring.
When you will walk alone,
Put it on the
ring finger, of course.
And others have husbands,
rings out of an orange stone,
earrings from mother of pearl.
And for me–a tear,
liquid turquoise,
dries before morning.
Wear the ring for now
As it’s seen from far away;
Then another one will be found.
And when you get tired of keeping it,
You’ll have something to drop
At night to the bottom of the well.
And others have husbands,
Rings out of orange stone,
Earrings from mother of pearl.
And for me–a tear,
liquid turquoise,
dries before morning.
The spilled tear
I’ll bring back from the future,
I’ll put it in a ring.
When you will walk alone,
Put it on the
ring finger, of course.

 

 

My Harlequin little cunning –
So little to say,
My Harlequin little sage
Although a simpleton to look at,
Oh, my Harlequin
Success and fame to anything,
One love he needed –
And I’m his wife.
He will resolve any question,
Although the type of simpleton,
In fact, it is not simple,
My Harlequin – eccentric.
Alas, he was a complex man,
But the main problem –
What is too often looks up
In the past year.

And in the sky flying, fly,
Flying to the ends,
And in heaven whoosh, whoosh
Iron chicks.
And white light, iron whistle
I see from the window.
Oh, my God, how many birds
And only one life.

My Harlequin little sage
Although a simpleton to look at,
– We will soon all come to an end! –
So he says.
My Harlequin cunning, simpleton,
I’m used to all things,
He is looking for something in the sky
And crying at night.

I Columbine, I am the wife,
I go after him,
Candle lit in the van,
We have good one,
In the night sky high
Chicks, and I look.
But something of the order
What I do not like.


As days pass days
Along the cities and villages,
Glimpses of the new lights
And the music and dirty,
And in these villages, towns
I stand mat,
And my husband goes to the hands,
And I dance again.

And the whole earth, the whole earth
Not too many places,
Here Petrograd noise in the darkness,
Once again we are here.
It is my Harlequin
In turn leads mist.
But something of the order
What I do not like.

Squeeze whiskey, squeeze whiskey
Wipe off the face of the fire,
Yes, something of this longing,
Which has no end!
We are in this world on the table
Just take a little bit.
We are going, going on the ground,
As long as we die.