A room. The windows looking out over the square.
Flags torn in the sky.
A woman behind the windows across the street
Is burning undecayed letters
But over her head
Is the sky of Saint-Petersburg
A staircase. Ten bays.
Every one of them examined until it hurts.
Tramways oppressed by people,
But I don't feel the elbows.
I'm on my way into the cloudy land,
To the sky of Saint-Petersburg
Give just a bit of freedom
To the soaring bird in the gun sight.
They won't be able to fly anywhere,
If you crash down on the city...
Hello, autumn square;
Even if my floor isn't the last one -
I'll be soon with you,
My Saint-Petersburg sky.