My dream is to go a long, long time:
Kindergarten, school, poplar,
Saint Petersburg and the Volga again...
Looks like we're out of Land.
Mastitis small on skin
Mosquito-God's soul;
And you can SWAT it
No regrets, no hurry.
You decide to wait a bit,
As Exupery bequeathed,
And immediately recall God,
What a mosquito inside.
And soon you will turn into retro,
Earthly pain endured,
Seeing as with a gust of wind,
They carry you away.