В город приехал цирк. Посреди улиц вырос огромный...

A circus arrived in the city. In the middle of the streets grew a huge red-yellow tent. From the tent, throwing back the dusty, faded fabric from time to time, as if a pianist was throwing the tails of his tailcoat, the sprechstalmeister slipped out and loudly declared his presence. A moment later, from the darkness of the tent, clowns, jugglers, gymnasts, acrobats rushed to the streets of the city. The musicians came out and settled down next to the tent. The conductor waved his wand and a melody forgotten by everyone began to pour. Strange and funny, but painfully familiar. The bones of the musicians creaked, sand poured from them. The drummer, striking his drum, knocked out a cloud of centennial dust. Moth-eaten tunic with accelerants, rumpled caps, broken fates. The trumpeter was slightly faked, second from the left. And the melody flew, with all its might beat its time-ragged wings. Jugglers walked the city streets, throwing maces in front of them, acrobats walked in a wheel, gymnasts made intricate figures. Clowns with jokes and jokes handed out tickets for the performance, sprayed passers-by with huge water pistols, gifted everyone with bright balloons, taking away in return a little time, which seemed to be so much ...
The circus left at night. He disappeared, leaving a black shadow on the ground. Clowns, acrobats, jugglers, gymnasts disappeared. The sprechstalmeister disappeared. In this place, which used to be a city, everything disappeared. Only the decrepit old people remained. And bright balloons. From time to time, the balls burst and disappeared without a trace. Old people disappeared along with them. And only the trumpeter, second from the left, continued, a little falsely, to play the forgotten tune by all.