Утро Полины

Polina's hands, like a forgotten song on a stubborn needle
Sounds are lazy, swirling like dust motes above her head
Sleepy eyes wait for someone to walk in and light them up
Polina's morning goes on for a hundred billion years

And all these years I hear her chest rise and fall
And from her breath, the windows fog up with a mist
And I don’t mind that my path is so endless
In her crystal bedroom, it’s always, always bright

I know those who will wait, and those who will die without waiting
But with both, it’s equally boring to walk
I love you for your waiting that hopes
For something that can never happen
Polina's fingers like candles in the candelabras of nights
Polina's tears have turned into an endless stream
In Polina's room, dawn hesitates at the threshold
Polina's morning goes on for a hundred billion years

And all these years I hear her chest rise and fall
And from her breath, the windows fog up with a mist
And I don’t mind that my path is so endless
In her crystal bedroom, it’s always, always bright