Moon Drift

The asphalt gleams beneath the moon's gaze,
After the rain — heavenly dew.
Through the night gloom, the tires thirst for song,
I listen to their squeal, now right, now left.
And I feel it — nature drives me,
When at an angle I enter the turns,
I enter the turn without easing off the pedal —
I don't scrape the brake enamel today,
Beneath the moon's gaze, yes, on a wet road,
The engine revs up in the drift.
Through the forest and sparsely standing houses,
Past streetlights that rarely shine,
I fly in the Impreza toward fate,
To meet street racing or the moon,
Though my drifting, I admit, is lame —
In a row with the pros, I drink "Borjomi",
But it won't deprive me of the joy of drifting —
I fly at the call of my heart, at the call of my soul
To conquer the turns like a happy dream
and again, and again fill the canyon with the squeal of tires.
If you want to find out, friend, what your limit is —
Race in the rain, under the moon in Need for Speed!