I stand at a window.
In him now I look.
And past people, as if bullets fly by.
Where they run do not know,
Where they fly, do not know.

I stand at a window.
I think of life,
She runs and as if the bullet flies by.
Where she runs does not know,
Where she flies, does not know.

I stand at a window.
I feel, that life vainly I live.
In fact life it is similar to a streamlet.
In the winter flows.
In the spring will wither.

In fact each person only a streamlet,
One is stronger, and another on weaker.
It is easy to fall asleep a streamlet, sand.
In fact the one who strews, about a streamlet will not
regret.

And we live similarly to streamlets.
Pouring in water we in each other,
We give life to new streamlets.
We hope, that the rivers they once will be.

But not who cannot be the river.
And the streamlet once in air will evaporate.
But other streamlets will continue smooth current.
Remember you, yes you.
That for you also shut dreams,
Once streamlets evaporated.

But their dream was other.
They wanted to merge together.
That strong to become the river,
And that in the life on longer to take pleasure.