Vladimir Vysotsky. Interrupted flight (№ 384471)

A single letter does not lie, do not lie.
It was pure syllable servant, servant,
He wrote her poems on snow, on snow...
Unfortunately, the snow melts.
But then there was another snowfall, snowfall
And the freedom to write in the snow
And big snowflakes and hail, and hail
He lips was enough for the run.