To be a poet - a new trend of our time,
Hang tag and let's collect the honest public,
Forgetting that poetry - throw under the train Karenina,
Creativity - jump barefoot black coal.
A poet once a week, once a month, six months,
Now it is fashionable, that's just all the words - empty,
The conveyor is running, will soon verses GOST,
All have forgotten that word - Moses in the desert.
Read has the right to one whose soul has not yet faded,
Those who survived, had been ill with a piece of this life shaval,
I destroyed the poems for which I was ashamed,
The poet in front of people - it's a rabbit before a boa.
Every day I write, to cast a spell stishulyu,
Verbal rhyme, no task ahead,
Incident, the people, then there was poetry in a fur coat,
Poems, fast food, poetry, popcorn, poems, bigbon.
It's not just the transmission of pain, broadcast from heaven,
You write without bastards, and me - tirelessly
My faith in literature indestructible as asbestos,
Can you - do not write, just enjoy the feeling.
Here he is flying off a cliff poetishki, which became,
More and more people's authors, they are not known by anybody,
And I continue to drag the banner of victory in the bloody Reichstag,
No dreams - write on in lacquered desk.
Among the hot hearts of thousands of units of a cold shower,
Everyone just writing I will not give any advice,
Inside my pulse beat and the goal of leaving the land,
Do not become a runaway shadow literature of our century.
