The Phone Talking Valery Alalykin Poem by Yuri Starostin

The phone talking
− You promised to me in the spring to arrive-
In the flood of the small river the horse has suddenly sunk,
The bone from the laughter has got stuck in the summer,
And at the autumn the gelding in a head kick by the hoof.
The comedy you break, my friend by a chintz!
But, thank God, though while be the live!
What you are, however, the drag.
Probably, it was got the house ghost…
And can be, more precisely, − the house ghostess?
Who has got a bone from a throat dexterous so?
All is clear: at you already another is!
And you are, my honey, from me hid.
To me here men do not give to pass.
And as though not to get into a scrape to me.
One has fallen in love yesterday directly of the descent.
And throws the sights, as a flame thrower.
I do not know without you what to do, honey.
You though would prompt me something,
When here too everyone is «the gelding grey»
All time strives to lick me.
− Darling, a misfortunes have ended!
Went to the sorceress -as by the hand it vanished.
Now, believe, all became within my power.
I fly already! And on the soul it is light.
5.01.2013