clutch as if from the face of the cheek, only then under the hooves only the song flies and the frozen sibiya a thought to be, only songs fly, over the frozen selves. strong sweaty skis, you fly behind your back ; the trace of the water skis has melted; you will hear their music, hear it as if from a magic bow. such music, i’ll take you away from home , i’ll take you away, i’ll take you away, from all my friends, i ’ll lead you away, i’ll take you away, perhaps, by a hell of a tight string, we’re connected to you, through the years, through the years you fly after me, like an angel tanned behind me , return it. i have enough music, without music , we have parted, but our music remains, you, through the years, through the years, you fly after me, as if an angel is burning behind my back, give me back the music, without music, we are dry, we... remained, but ours remains music, i will never return, water will never sing again, without there was no trace, everything was washed away without a trace. but a lie is not needed, it’s worthless, the string is broken, you fly after me through the years,