Soul on the world the young roamed Was naive, trusted to all The same as she met Met the souls the stale quite Were such, that двуличьем glitter In eyes that smiled, and then Thrown on, wolfish covey of хлеще, Suddenly at a back beat, and kicked a knee-boot And she plods in the old clothes Torn in pieces, as if homeless Person And if you will meet her on life crossing Give with the world идти her, by a hand her do not touch
