Night - dear, fluffy, warm death.
The sad-eyed, tender boredom of a cow,
And in the koryagah of blood vessels the blood got tangled
Tribal lost my little river.
The supreme judge is sleeping -
God will judge you, judge, -
He dreams, like a mantle throwing wings,
He rises above human dust,
But in a feather grass suddenly shot down flies a shotgun.
It's me.
I'll wait for you naked in the reeds
And in the autumn galoshes,
And in the winter gaashes,
In the vernal waters, in our chamomile chambers,
And again there will be autumn, winter and spring,
There will be summer and autumn, winter and spring,
There will be summer and autumn, winter and spring,
It will be summer and autumn
And in the fall of that
Rumbles, stumbling stormyly on the rapids,
my ancient river
And I'm on the cake
K from shame and surf crimson wall
I swim in a white dress with a veil make-up,
Shout it out & quot; it's me! come out, it's me! & quot;
And beautifully shot down take off a gun,
And like a pigeon sit down at your window.
