The moon is rinsing its mug in a puddle,
Lilac satin shines from the sky.
I stand here, needed by no one,
Lonely and drunk, alone.
There is little good in life,
Pain does not drown in the cursed wine,
Even the one I loved has stopped
Smiling when we meet.
At the door I am met by the administrator, who offers me a seat at the bar counter. In my opinion it is the best position for properly appreciating the whole kitchen, and not only the culinary one, naturally. I can note that there were almost no free seats at the bar. More practical guests book tables in advance, but we do not look for easy paths when inspiration has caught us.
And so it always is. At a drunken feast,
When the cycle of all days is completed,
Each of us, raising a mug,
Accidentally spills a tear into it.
The atmosphere in the place is the lightest and calmest: two interactive bar counters in adjoining halls, and separate seats with tables for small groups. Live music is playing — sheet music, a music stand, a girl.
And when at night the moon is shining,
When it shines... the devil knows how!
I walk, my head hanging down,
Along the lane to the familiar tavern.