Spell after Evgeny Yevtushenko

Think of me on a spring night,

and think of me on a summer night

Think of me on an autumn night,

and think of me on a winter night.

Let me not be there with you, but  outside,

so far away, like in another land -site,

on a long and cool sheet right,

rest, as if in the sea on your back side,

surrendering to a soft, slow wave hight,

with me, as with the sea, all alone,  mine.

I don't want you to think during the day.

Let the day’ll, turn everything upside down away,

smoke it with smoke and fill it with wine gay,

make you think about something by different way.

 You can think about whatever you want during the day

but  at night - only about me remain.

Hear through the locomotive whistles,

through the wind tearing the clouds to pieces,

how I need it, caught in a vice and creased,

so that in a room where the walls are so narrowest

you squint from happiness and melancholy truth

your temples with your palms until they hurt. squeezed.

I beg you - in the quietest silence tight,

or under the rain rustling in the sky hight,

or under the snow shimmering in the window site,

already in a dream and not in a dream tide

Think of me on a spring night,

and think of me on a summer night.

Think of me on an autumn night 

and think of me on a winter night.