Ballad from the suburbs

And a kerosene lamp is burning on the corner

light reddish yellow

on the thick mud near the old fence

and two or three bricks on the road.

And always the same poor man enters

into her light from the dark,

and with a face that usually shows worries

cross it in a few steps.

And one evening someone is not there,

and he would have to pass;

And the lamp burns,

and burn in the mist,

and it's already night.

And he's gone tomorrow, not even the day after tomorrow,

and they say that he is lying sick,

and there is no moon, and there is no two,

and it's already winter

and it snows.

And people pass by as before,

and May already smells -

and he is gone, and gone, and gone,

and he is gone.

And a kerosene lamp is burning on the corner

light reddish yellow

on the thick mud near the old fence

and two or three bricks on the road