In an empty room on the table
Never open, and not finished the book:
"One Hundred Years of Solitude".

On the wall pale crimson roses
Where the clock still runs
In light azure,
As in the picture of Van Gogh's.

On the floor in the middle
Chair,
The smell of silk dress hangs,
And a warm touch on the handrail.

Ajar door softly creaking
Without strings violins concert -
Fragments of "The Most Beautiful
An embodiment of The Beauty",
"Welcome Silence" - in E-minor,
And "Impossible Love".