Anguish, boredom, lust, jag
TV... without a face,
Life - is a cruel snag
Without beginning or end.
Only the youth have flashed,
Intoxicated by vanity of the hopes,
In a blink - there is an old age,
And after... - death without clothes.
Everyone knows it who is earthy,
If he lived for a long...
About the lamp... and a drugstore...
... Millions of red roses.
That's why live as a booze!
Sing as a sea ocean...
Everything will return soon
in the tale of a white bull -
So you live, yourself try to divert,
But around there is grey reality...
And your native pussy you hold,
To avoid falling in immortality.
Pussy or eggs you keep?
but for everything there is a reason,
While a spinner is weaving a wheel
you hear the buzz of a spindle.
a cat chases a cat,
And a cricket is sings behind the furnace
After the death all will come back,
You believe me, the old man,
Everything will be the same,
From the same doors and porches,
There are hand-painted sleighs,
With the trio of fiery horses!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem