Song: In St. Petersburg storm

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.

You don't listen to that rain of me whispers deceptive,
And don't believe if Grom knows something about us indecent.
It is only the echo of the storm receding, lazy and bland
And the storm outside - just an old spinster duplicitous.
You don't trust the clouds in the sky flying from the North,
Don't look out the window at a frightening glitter of electricity,
You do not believe in the dark the scent of sweet clover,
You feel me burning in a moment of loneliness.