In memoria of Manuel Bronstein

The theater is in a rage.
The crowd's going nuts.
But I am leaving you the Stage.
Are forceless any buts.

A man of mike, I've gotten old,
been singing for an age.
The 20th century, I'm called.
I'm leaving you the Stage.

It's boring to become a sage.
For this part, I'm too smart...
But I am leaving you the Stage.
From you the Stage I'll part.

've gauged the horizon, to engage
new bests into the Art.
I'm leaving leaving you the Stage.
From you the Stage I'll part.

God's arrow, 've darted thru my age
t' the finis, from the start.
Born actors end their part at Stage.
From you the Stage I'll part.

Will recollect you my motiff,
my fondling, grief, and rage?
Can we, without ourselves, live?
I'm leaving you the Stage.

You cherished me, your kid, in rye.
I took up your gage.
The wrench of saying you goodbye...
I'm leaving you the Stage.

I love your rusty architraves,
those troubled siren's paws...
Why we are doomed to leave our loves?
Farewell, my love. Adios.

They race t' the border of holograph art.
You could fall there into a mart?
For good I'm leaving you the Stage?
From you my Stage I'll part.

The squirrel in a squirrel cage,
is thrilling poor heart.
I'm leaving you my love the Stage.
From you my love I'll part.

I'm grateful you for joys and slings,
for every man and rhyme.
You seated me upon your wings
that most of people called Time.

With all my soul, I've sung my bill,
performed my every clause.
I'm falling into softest still,
like into God's applause.

But in the land of night and God,
I'll dream of You a lot -
an egg yolk's dormant dimmy spot
that will become a bird.

За стихотворение голосовали: Янка Маяк: 4 ;