She doesn't like the bright day light,
She doesn't read newspapers out of spite,
Of any circles she wouldn't have a bar*,
She dreams to leave for good the USSR.
She needs to meet a prince from a land that's far away,
Night and day he comes into her dream.
And filled with state of war each day,
And it's already 15 long years she dreams of him.
She takes the dogs for a run,
Like to the war she goes to the restaurant,
She neither smokes, nor drinks,
She casts her nets, and quietly waits for something.
To read the books for her is not on,
But foreign language she tries to learn.
She is 35, so what? Is it the end?
That ship has sailed, she doesn't want to understand.