Untidy wind, you came to me
And nothing has its own shape.
And oh, it's difficult to be
Myself, when there are such crapes.
The air is stiff, abiding fears
And no starlings sing their songs.
And there rolling bitter tears
Along the cheeks, burning the soul.
There're no rapturous desires,
And Rara Avis's gone unless
You feel inside a coming starlet
Just take on trust, and you confess.
And then you'll see, untidy wind
Will give you an unmeasured swing.
Екатерина Третьякова. 10.11.2005.