Father...

My father is drunk and stupid,
 Daily drinks and smokes,
 He is rude to his mother and lies
 Lies and says something quietly...
 A lot of mats come out of it
 To a loving mother.
 The word does not climb the pocket
 And answers better times in two.
 
 " when will he get Drunk?"
 I always think desperately.
 He's a rag to me,
 A shameless brute and a pig, though...
 That will be better once so in seven.
 
 Who needs it?
 For whom lives?
 Why does he exist and why does he drink?
 There are no answers, and neither is his conscience,
 He drank it, dignity and all.
 
 I don't remember him without vodka in his system,
 The wife went to another, the whole family turned away
 (Maybe I don't know everything I need to know,
 No one told me during this time,
 But I know for sure: very soon
 He will drink up all that he has made in this world).
 (Not needed by anyone, but still
 I love him for what he is.
 Peace must be made with the family,
 Otherwise... No one will be near him).