SelfPub: Burn, burn, go away, ...

Burn, burn, go away, run away in the mountains,
Not to know grief, not to know cities anymore.
On the trail go up to where the hot temple,
hot and white under the sun, like from a dream.
And the road burns behind you, and the city burns,
And coffins of concrete turn black, lie down, burn,
Only the track dragged you into its furious rhythm,
In a white rhythm, bringing to the finish of December.
I get out on the road, the road swallows me.
Oh, don't remember, don't remember, don't remember me!
Bury my memory obediently (don't remember me),
Dive down your throat (don't remember me).
Pulls the route - where the temple hovers over the mountains,
Where the bitter sea is clooching, and on the star,
What rises in the morning , - shepherds look in the mountains,
I've been going there my whole life, I'm going, I'm going.