When you look at the dawn, when the sun is born in your eyes, what do you feel in the soul? Where do your dreams come from? Do you dream seasons and birds? Do you fly them in other dimensions? Are you sympathetic to the darkness of the moors, and the wind you kiss, the evening? You send messages to the universes, and are you waiting for them to get? Are the songs touching the silence? Do you want the unpredictability to learn? And do you hear this voice now? in you, in your veins, how is it? The Heart speaks to you - Yes, that's me, but in fact ... I'm you ... I will hardly see the dawn ... And the sun has no eyes! If my soul is sick, but blindly her dreams! Such even the moles - will spare with the evening wind. And the bird's sleep of sighing he will probably lose a friend! The silent clear of the songs trembling unspoken words. Best naked in prosperity-salvation, I make eunuch follies. There are two revolutions ... but in a world of unaltered power. My heart fights your pulse, because You really ... it's me!