They grow old without noticing it.
Become legends, and dreams.
And time washes silhouettes,
Yesterday considered us.
It invisibly alienates a person,
Creeping quietly on the изображенье,
And in every little thing to get stuck and manifest
Trying to invisible time
And, as bad artist, - all out of place:
The yellow, the shadows are not merge, -
So changes us that only a dress
Or even what little thing recognizable...
We go away, time rushes back to back,
Falls yellowness in изображенья.
Change the pictures and the face,
Like yesterday, as a reflection of...