Беседы о творчестве А. и Б.Стругацких

As withered leaf descends upon my soul
A pall of hopeless silence overcast.
The right has gone; the wrong has come to last,
I'm drifting through a life of no control.

My burning words are ashes, sour and cold.
My fluent thoughts are ghastly and bizarre.
I flee to havens safe of lands afar,
From illness said to timelessness untold.

Farewell, my rose; my life is all in vain,
I leave anon; in solitude I'm clad;
No future left; the past is dark and sad,
I've sold my love and payment is disdain.

Our fate is wrought by those with hearts of stone,
Repentance is the only thing I own.