Stas Mikhailov. The cranes are flying to China (№ 311217)

Blue floating clouds, through the veins of blood running through the hands.
And I want the sky to fall, face to bury into the clouds.
And if you get on the plane, he will take me there,
Where do not have to decide, but you can just just fly!
The cranes are flying to China, only you don't go!
Neither in winter nor in summer, don't leave me in this planet.