I can leave these streets for you,
Streets having  your memories
As one part and
My words were written over its wall as rest.

If you shall be happy with
The silent walls,
Among the cracks into the roof of
Your memories.

I can leave these streets for you,
If you find my incoming
as a rough
Sward,
Which is blunt but
still, ache your heart.

But tell me before,
Will you be able to breathe
Air, the same air after me?

Will your eyes not run
up to the next corner
Of street to see me coming?

Or any rising voice similar to mine,
Shall not make you to the run-up to the door
To see, if it's or it's not me?

Or if it will not happen ever,
I can simply leave these streets for you.
Just tell me.