From disgust
It groans...
Fyodorov Sergey Fyodorovich
September will yank the tablecloth
From the table of the year - of summer...
The old family table of the Earth...
Plywood
Has already swollen somewhere...
Empty without snacks
We'll start drinking on the black...
Mud and white snow
For half a year - like lard...
We bite our tongues for a snack...
When there's drunkenness - there's no love...
Each body of the other
Drinks down with a glass...
And from disgust
It groans...
From disgust It groans...
© Copyright: Фёдоров Сергей Фёдорович, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126060304385
Свидетельство о публикации №126060304385
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