Текст песни Н.Гумилёв - Шестое чувство

Perfectly us enamored wine
And the good bread in the oven for us to sit,
And women who have given,
First exhausted us to enjoy.

But what do we do with a pink dawn
Above growing cold skies,
Where silence and unearthly peace,
What can we do with the immortal verses?

Neither eat nor drink nor kiss.
A moment runs uncontrollably,
And we break hands, but again,
Condemned to go past all the past.

As a boy, forgetting their game,
Tracks for sometimes girlish bathing
And knowing nothing about love,
All are tormented by the mysterious desire;

As once in overgrown horsetail
Roared on consciousness impotence
Creature is slippery, Pochuev shoulders
It has not yet appeared wings;

Thus, century after century - soon, the Lord? -
Under the scalpel of nature and art
Shouts our spirit is weak flesh,
Giving birth to a sixth sense organ.