оригинал - И. Бродский Октябрьская песня
Old clocks сhirring in right way
Please eveningly my crumpled drumheads
A tree by the window is a gray candle
A sea has been for four days hollowly hooting by dam
Put off your book, take a needle
Darn my linen without lighting the lamp
For it's light in the corner thru the gold of you hair
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