Faceless sadness clouding my heart, I’m a bird ready to break Stephanou in flight over the Seine in Rouen, the goddess of humpback bridges. Coach for him will pass, only people will open umbrellas. And evening the rain will turn into couch potatoes walking until dark. Where pipe factories drone ships, without rest and comma, calm the Hay, as before, leads me to quiet rest. And it seems – that will stretch their hands, the air holding a pencil, And Hay will run from September of boredom there, where it flows into the English channel.The picture Seine in Rouen, Armand Gilomen, 1890, http://www.stihi.ru/2013/09/17/53