On the carpet, on the garden, leaves are falling on the ground: Rain is knocking at the door, it is autumn dancing on the floor. Birds are flying overseas. Warm days are dieing slowly. Cold and snow are approaching. I am looking at the window, and I am thinking what I’ve done: Fights and friends, past and future, Jewish people and Russian girl. Where is she and where is me? Do you remember how I left you and country? Do you remember border, airplane, cries, and feelings? Only ten years are passed, but have I accomplished something? What is house without wife and children? What is life without goal? No letters from my town, no calls from my love. Past is getting dimmer, future is dark and unknown. I want to go where friends are laughing, Where all are happy, and life is love, not money. I know that I need to come back, but I can’t, I simply can’t. Bye-bye my Poor Great Country, bye-bye my childhood, my summer, tales...

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