The shaft of your decayed, decayed body,
in which you did not get it in time.
you rusted, but still flew
before me, pupil of Zeno.
clocks ticking. But, put a book,
as a liquid in a sealed container,
they still, and you mobile,
being indifferent to their second.
Did you know, what do you separation
It is a bowstring, that her return
not destined, when you are a bow
He flew to the other side of the Euphrates?
Even resting in the warm handfuls of frosty
noon, under the shelter of a stranger,
similar green with bronze
a laurel leaf broth survivors,
You are moving rapidly. For you
can not keep up in the desert, even more so - in a thicket
present. For any heat,
palm - the more, prehodyashte.