Alla Pugacheva. In St. Petersburg storm (№ 383840)

Under the rough-the thunder, the lightning is bloody scarlet
You think about what you said insomnia,
Sit and cry in the dark, as if the girl small,
Under the booming thunder that the window was breaking unbidden.
You think that rains on the planet is not eternal
Again the moon from good weather a little drunk
And the storm outside, as a phenomenon so fleeting,
You believe - all again, as always begins anew.