诗人他的脑袋惶恐地躲在灯罩下。他是蓝色的,而他的双眼布满血丝。一位一动不动的音乐家。他睡;他分离的双手弹奏着手风琴,为了使自己忘却不幸。一座楼梯绕着屋子爬行,它不通往任何地方。此外没有门,也没有窗户。人们看见窜向虚空的影子在屋顶晃动。影子一个个跌倒,却不是自杀。很快,影子重又开始登上楼梯,无休止地为弹奏手风琴的音乐家所陶醉,而音乐家的手听不见琴声。 His head hides under the lamp shade with fear. He is blue, and his eyes are bloodshot. A moving musician. He slept; his separate hands played the accordion in order to obliterate his misfortune. A staircase creeps around the house and does not travel anywhere. There are no doors and no windows. The shadows that vanished to the void were seen shaking on the roof. Shadow one by one fall, but not suicide. Soon, the shadow again began to climb the stairs, intoxicated endlessly for the accordion musician, and the musician’s hand can not hear the piano.