Апокриф Андрей Звягинцев

Funeral blues (1940) (Wystan Hugh Auden) Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come Let aeroplane circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Tie crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight