And lovely girl from the customs booth made of glass, —
— Your passport and ticket.
God, how much I’m tired of all of them!
I step and scarcely drag my weary body
As if not mine,
To my first aircraft-the-plane
MD10T of air-company SAS.
My dear friends, forgive me,
But live this way no longer I can.
Farewell. Do not burry me alive
As it happened to me some time in the past.
I flew away, heading there, nowhere.
What did I know then on the eve?
I may come back, — told me my soul,
But my mind replied, — Sorry,
You go there for good.
(Sketch of translation by Taras Shatko and Boris Garbuzov, August, 2001)