miracles - a blizzard is swirling...

                                        
                        A blizzard is swirling.
                                        
Miracles happen in it.                
                                        
              Incomprehensible and mysterious.
                                        
They are from childhood.                         
                   They SMELL like a Christmas tree.    
                                        
 They jump out of caskets.             
                                        
                            They are dancing
but snowflakes make it difficult to see them.      
                                        
And there is no one to look at them - the street is empty.
                                        
             And as if out of this world.   
                                        
They are blue.                       
                                        
     Against the background of a black Christmas night.
                                        
IN a whirl of whitesnowflakes -             
 smallХ stars.
                                        
                                        
      And only the sky looks at them.       
                                        
             Only the moon has access to their world. 
                                        
           The MOON fabulous and alive.      
Smiles, understands and creates.           
                                        
                                        
MIRACLES Carry further and further.    
                                        
                                        
                Probably somewhere in the forest.
                                        
                 There is a clearing there somewhere.
                                        
There's a fairy tale there.                             
              There good will triumph over evil.    
                                        
            But even further.            
                                        
Very very far into theforest.             
                                        
      There's no one there. And it never was.
                                        
And everything around glows a little             
                                        
and smiles affectionately.And goodmonth.
                                        
And the darkness there is kind and promises a fairy tale.  
                                        
                                        
          And that's where the path begins.
                                        
 Miracles in snowflakes - ah, what a pity,    
     that I couldn’t see them -     
        They are carried away along this path into the distance.
                                        
                                        
Further, even further.                     
                                        
              Every year it gets further and further.
                                        
But - they are subject totime.               
                                        
They CAN stop him.
                                        
Turn back.                       
                                        
             Far, far away.             
                             Where is this from?
                                        
They are rushing, they need to make it.                
                                        
                          But they will make it.And somewhere there...                          
                                        
         childhood will begin there.          
                                        
There they will fly to the City.                
                                        
                                 [City.
This city is not like it is now -       
                                        
          he is big and kind.          
                                        
                                        
  That night his houses glow yellow
                                        
             windows - there are good people behind them,
New Year and Christmas trees.                       
                                        
                                        
           The fairy tale flies there.           
 In that [City] my childhood and yours live.
                                        
                          Liveschildhood.
                                        
And be sure to go there on New Year’s Day          
                        a fairy tale will arrive...I'm running down the Street - here he is -            
                        little whirlwind!
                                        
There are flashes in it. Some kind of movement.       
                                        
           Now I'll catch up with him and then...
                                        
But what is this..                            
                                        
                                        
         Baby? What are you doing here alone?
                                        
Yes, yes, you are wonderful             
                     sparkler...
                                        
Yes, they are very cool to wave at             
           in such a New Year's chaos..
                                        
                                        
So it's you..                         
                                        
                                        
               What? Oh yes, and you too..
Happy New Year..                         
                                        
                                        
                                        
Well... In the end, the main thing is      
that the fairy tale has arrived..                   
                                        
                                        
                 
                             29'De<,2002