Был период в жизни - выплескивала стихи из себя как дурной фонтан. Только на инглише почему-то.
На Великом и Могучем чесна-чесна пыталась - и никак.
The Town of My Childhood DreamsI wish I could come back to town of my green-golden days of spring,
Where turquoise skies never frown and bees bring rainbows on their wings.
Wish I could see the dear faces of my forgotten childhood friends,
Recall our games and cycle races, tree-climbing, falls and broken hands.
I wish I went to secret places of my home town – there I spent
Long hours thinking, searching traces of sense in life. My childhood went
Unsheltered as I had to leave it, dissolved in rush of busy days,
Outside my life, although within it, betrayed and lost in many ways.
Now, when I live a night train’s distance away, the town of my heart
Pulls me so strong that the resistance to that call tears me apart.
Nevertheless I’m staying here. I’ve never been so close before,
But I cannot go there for fear my town belongs to me no more.
I know that childhood’s gone for ever – old places change and magic seems
To leave. Because of this I’ll never return to town of my dreams.