Waiting for the mythical woman,
We are going to look at the pier,
And the huge sun is running
By the cloth of the of the sky,
Ships sail, sway, seagulls scream,
And rusty crane creaks in the wind from this nonsense.
Waiting for the mythical woman
We do not love now,
Our hands are entwined
But eyes are watering from the horizon
Cleopatra will not go down the ladder,
Neither tomorrow, nor in an hour,
Never, only glare multiply.
