Идут обыденные дожди, по собственным лужам скользя. Как...

It rains
in their own puddles gliding.
As if they swore to go, -
and the oath cannot be broken ...
It’s even funny - you don’t expect anything.
You do not expect any miracle.
Falling asleep - rain.
Waking up - rain.
You go outside - rain.
And you see only the empty darkness
the city you see is empty.
The soda girl crouched on the corner -
stubbornly sells water.
And the water around! -
So much water
just nowhere to spill.
It's like going to trade in the sun -
where you are now! ..
Listen, and maybe you have
same mess?
At the porch in clay, the gazik got stuck,
layer on the balcony - water ...
If so -
then there’s a lie in the world!
It should not be!
No!
Because you need: if it’s rain for me,
then you -sunlight.
Like a daughter, sunny! Like mica!
Like a crackling dance of fire!
You should never have rains.
Let them go with me ...
And they are coming - blind rains.
No trees, no grass ...

Please break this letter.
And forgive me for him.
However, the point is not at all in it.
Simple, hard to endure.
The sea is buzzing outside my window
like a train going to you.

R. Rozhdestvensky