he has left many summers, many winters behind
grey days were dying nothing else outside
he drank, he ate and he slept spending life all alone
passing by that grey days to remind never more

the sky, the streets and the people - all is covered with ash
loneliness's getting colder among dusty trash
and he is making his circules to the window and back
he cannot yet see her on a meaningless track

yawning city arose left the ground for the sky
shook off everything bothering, his ships for a while
naked Nevsky was seeded with grass, now see:
Alexander's column sprouted up like a tree.

Peter's monument rode away from his place
and brass steed made a bolt as the withnesses said
everything's upside down, everything's going mad
look, she's comming, she's comming from the far Neva's bank