Guf. Slides (№ 91015)

Drops from the sky, drops on the visor and shoulders.
I was walking through the old alleys on a rainy Moscow night
Smoke the last cigarette was popped into the distance,
I walked, dreamed that he will carry my grief.
But, alas, the smoke dreams away, opening the wounds
From loss and from love, I closed my eyes
And have seen those in the path of the lost...