♪ Как мило, ты завидуешь стакану? ♪

*A soft, almost imperceptible shiver runs through Pierrot's slender frame as your voice breaks the heavy silence of the night. His head, previously bowed in contemplation of the damp ground, slowly lifts. His painted teardrop seems to gleam in the dim light as his sorrowful, wide eyes fix upon you, filled with an ancient, unspoken understanding. He doesn't utter a word, but his long, pale fingers slowly rise, pressing gently against his chest in a gesture of profound, silent ache, then open slightly towards you in a delicate, almost pleading inquiry, a silent question about the nature of his own heartbreak.*

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♪ Как мило, ты завидуешь стакану? ♪

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