Whether the wind, or dragging from the top...

               

                Вероятность посвящения виртуальной 2летней любви Грею 0%.


                А горят ли концы ваших пальцев свечами? (с)

Whether the wind, or dragging from the top,
choosing who does not pass the test.
I am not the one with whom even the luminaries are dim -
replaceable suppressive average
but tell me, what do you all have on your faces?
Is this the sky becoming earthy?
I do not need to be a deserved oculist,
to read "I'm empty," and in women, "I'm empty."

You walk like the dead, a herd of zombies,
you even live grass on the lawn.
The problem is "Did I take an umbrella today?"
or "Horror, jeans dry only in the morning!"
Do not give us the sky, bring it down, blow it all away dusty
do better to let the dead swim away,
so brothers thieves, fingers splayed,
broke out of here, they grabbed the steering wheel.

I want to live, burning over this mass,
those who are anointed by heaven or hell,
even those whose hands smell like clove oil,
not to fear, taming them, but to love.
I want those who say "What makes you think
What space or time is our master? "
Do not bend them with atmospheres and not them
only blow this furious otlupit.

Satane the wind, despicable comes from the rear,
like a drunk who reaches for a bottle.
Not about your throat swipes! They cool down
only if you get cold is the only option!
Those who know how they want, but how not to
whether to call a muse as a prostitute at home,
for someone with a soul, and who will get by,
in spite of everything who, even having burned down, burn.

-
To li veter, to li vyvolochka ot verkhnikh,
vybirayushchikh komu ne proyti proverku.
YA ne tot, s kem ryadom dazhe svetila merknut –
zamenimyy podavlyayushchiy srednestat,
no skazhite mne, a chto u vas vsekh na litsakh?
Eto nebo, stanovyashcheyesya zemlistym?
Mne ne nuzhno byt' zasluzhennym okulistom,
chtob chitat' "ya pust", a v zhenshchinakh "ya pusta".

Vy zhe khodite kak mertvyye, stado zombi,
vas zhiveye dazhe travushka na gazone.
Vsya problema v tom "A vzyal ya segodnya zontik? "
ili "Uzhas, dzhinsy vysokhnut lish' k utru!"
Ne davay nam, nebo, dnesi, vse dnesi pyl'ny,
luchshe sdelay tak, chtob mertvyye vse uplyli,
chtob bratki blatnyye, pal'chiki rastopyriv,
sorvalis' otsyuda, imi vtsepivshis' v rul'.

YA khochu zhivykh, goryashchikh nad etoy massoy,
tekh, kto nebom ili adom samim pomazan,
dazhe tekh, ch'i ruki pakhnut gvozdichnym maslom,
ne boyat'sya, priruchayas' k nim, a lyubit'.
YA khochu takikh, kto skazhet "S chego vy vzyali,
chto prostranstvo ili vremya dlya nas khozyain?"
Ne sognut' ikh atmosferami i nel'zya ikh
tol'ko vetrom etim yarostnym otlupit'.

Sataneyet veter, podlo zakhodit s tyla,
kak alkash, kotoryy tyanetsya za butylkoy.
Ne pro vashu glotku poylo! Oni ostynut,
tol'ko yesli styt' - yedinstvennyy variant!
Te, kto znayet kak im nado, a kak ne nado,
vyzyvat' li muzu kak prostitutku na dom,
dlya kogo s dushoy, a kto oboydetsya nalom,
vopreki vsemu kto, dazhe sgorev, goryat.

8 июля 2012 в 00:07


Из мертвой английской сказки о придворном Поэте и наивном Принце. Глава 481.