列宁格勒我回到我的城市,熟悉如眼泪,如静脉,如童年的腮腺炎。你回到这里,快点儿吞下列宁格勒河边路灯的鱼肝油。你认出十二月短暂的白昼:蛋黄搅入那不祥的沥青。彼得堡,我还不愿意死:你有我的电话号码。彼得堡,我还有那些地址我可以召回死者的声音。我住在后楼梯,被拽响的门铃 Leningrad I returned to my city, familiar with tears, such as veins, such as mumps in childhood. When you get back here, swallow cod liver oil from the Leningrad river sidewalk. You recognize the short day of December: the egg yolks into that ominous pitch. Peterborough, I still do not want to die: you have my phone number. Petersburg, I still have those addresses where I can recall the dead voice. I live in the back stairs, was rang the doorbell