You don't like new acid jazz.
It's exotic, non-native flow.
It's like a traveler, dressed for show,
With a silk neckscarf as topaz.

You don't bear the style mixture.
It's like a slapdash of free spheres.
And no need to gather then down the years.
It'll be-all a needless fixture.

You don't accept circumlocutions,
Allegories and hidden meanings.
Quotations, accents and other symbols -
These are unnecessary gleanings.

You know, you're unbearably stubborn
You can't stand any fancy guessing.
You're far from a beauty of word expressing.
Sorry, but you're monotone.

The city slept, waiting for dawn.
Shopwindows and houses wholly slept.
The moon and me were wandering lonely,
Two sad loners being night windswept.

Nothing will flurry, nobody'll bother.
The night is dark and quiet awesome.
The wind repeats the heartbeat in lockstep.
I'm not in full. It seems I've lost some.

I'm shuffling and the moon is nearby.
I am sick out of this hellish pain.
That night I parted with me in whole,
That me, who forgave with no refrain.

She doesn't wear vanilla dresses,
Ethereal shoes and a mint beret.
She doesn't accept gluey embraces
And kisses, where the truth is away.

She doesn't like stuffy speeches
About the Moon and stars at her feet.
She doesn't need a fiery chatter,
If there is a hollow behind it.

No use to disturb the Sun in vain
And lead it to shine only for her.
In fact all your cries are trait falsehood.
No need to be so low-lived amateur.

The sea throws a foam right at her feet.
Sea waves are noisy and bold.
Her ear's softly caressed by seagulls.
These birds are the peerless sea gold.

Her clothes are surely relaxed fitting,
And so it has always been.
The wind in her face, unfastened hair,
And he's nearby - it's the ultimate thing.

I'm getting used to being alone again,
To noiseless evenings, torturing by coolness,
To sickening evenings with their twinkle stars,
Which harshly tear my soul by stuffy stillness.

I'm getting used to being alone again,
Alone with Chopin in all the evenings long.
I fall upon my pillow and shut off,
And in the morning my alarm's 'ding-****'

Well now, hello, my dear, and come in.
Where've you got lost, my sweet and precious friend?
We'll wade through whole life with you, my loneliness,
From this time forth up even to the end.