They went so far That they already did not know where And in his hands was ice, And in her hands- water And if he hadn’t have laughed She would have decided that he was mute But he said to her “How glorious it will be, when we return home.” My sister, you’re an altruist You don’t spare a candle And you want to learn my language But it’s mine and no one else’s And already we need so few words And winter is almost here But you know, sister, how glorious it will be, When we return home! I flew on silver wings O, I was a great aesthete! And on this side of the glass I searched for that which is not. And my body asked for love, and became my jail Everything remains exactly thus, But only I know, that I Am returning home.