Dedicated to Yuliy Kitaevich - beloved friend, author of many of my poems
The flesh becomes fat.
The dust evaporates.
The years have passed
for a slow dinner.
And it's nice to think
that it was after all
and someone even needed it.
1
HOW TO SIMPLY TAKE FREEDOM FROM THE PEOPLE: IT MUST JUST BE TRUSTED BY THE PEOPLE
* * *
I feel sorry for Marx: his legacy
fell into the Russian font:
here the end justified the means,
and the means crap the goal.
* * *
For the benefit of the hegemonic class,
so that he reigns relentlessly,
available to search at any moment
a separate hegemon.
* * *
The human layer in us is just a little bit
layered unsteadily and alarmingly;
it’s easy to turn us back into cattle,
It's very difficult to get back up.
* * *
Forever we have erected a monument
madness, crashes and losses,
performing an experiment on blood,
brought a negative result.
* * *
I am young, in the remains of snot,
I'm afraid of shaking life like a pear:
It’s dark in their souls, like in their ass,
and in the ass there is an itch to satisfy the soul.
* * *
pressing, crushing and crushing,
fear reproduces itself
raises and feeds itself.
* * *
When stories are a draft
whistles for souls and powers,
one - a slug crawls into a hole,
the other is swollen like a boa constrictor.
* * *
Good without rejecting the means of evil,
according to them he reaps the results;
in paradise where resin is used,
archangels have hooves and horns.
* * *
When the fear is overwhelming
and the darkness is pierced by the barking of pursuits,
blessed is anyone who dares
Don't blow out the fire within yourself.
* * *
Having provided myself with a common phrase,
hostile to life and nature,
in unfreedom there is scum and evil spirits
he becomes more free to become a shepherd.
* * *
Freedom, looking impartially,
then only it becomes necessary,
when there's space inside me
wider than the external chamber.
* * *
Penetrating through the blood to the roots,
piercing the air of the sky,
bondage corrupts us more strongly,
than the most dissolute freedom.
* * *
We got it from our grandfathers today
an indifferent shadow of fatigue -
historical fatigue
possessed generation.
* * *
The spirit of the times, although not militant,
the surf still bloodied him;
committing suicide,
utopias are pulling us along.
* * *
Holding the pen and the eye in union,
It is not in vain that I eat my bread:
Russia – Gordian bathroom
the most pressing current problems.
* * *
I'm afraid of any trumpet howling,
looking habitually and soberly:
good, bitchy in the excitement of struggle,
gets angry coolly and playfully.
* * *
I was lucky: I knew the country
the only one in the world,
in his own captivity
in his living apartment.
* * *
Where they lie to themselves and to each other,
and memory does not serve the mind,
history goes in circles
from blood - through mud - into darkness.
* * *
They bloom fully and stubbornly
fruit progress seeds:
the snobbery of a plebeian, the swagger of a boor,
arrogance of shit.
* * *
In the years of corruption, lies and fear
narrow permitted sphere:
jokes below the groin are forbidden
and thoughts are beyond dick.
* * *
Not close to history, but familiar,
I see our glory very clearly:
we have become an unquenchable beacon,
shining on a course where it is dangerous.
* * *
Leading parties and classes,
the leaders never understood
that an idea thrown to the masses -
This is a girl thrown into the regiment.
* * *
Familiar, silent peoples,
silent roosters crow;
we are created for happiness and freedom,
like fish - for flight and fish soup.
* * *
All social systems -
from hierarchy to brotherhood -
knocking heads on problems
freedom, equality and whoreness.
* * *
The appointed cup to drink on time,
Russia – a lesson and concern for everyone -
crucified like Christ to redeem
the universal mortal sin of reconstruction.
* * *
In any extreme situation,
confused, anxious and hot,
calm confidence of the blind
more nightmarish than the confusion of the sighted.
* * *
Whatever the century, we are clearer and more audible
through the anguish of the liberal howl:
there is no more dangerous and there is no more harmful,
than freedom without a guard at all.
* * *
Us book of life is a darkness of strife
disconnects in every line,
and those who know do not know disputes -
they fuck us one by one.
* * *
The pulse beats at our temple
mental turmoil, evil coolness;
there is melancholy in the Russian spree,
easily inclined to cruelty.
* * *
Closing my eyes, covering my ears,
considering life as alms,
we take a break when they don't choke,
savored as a blessing.
* * *
Having sleep, food and work,
fate and power will not be contradicted,
and they fuck us mercilessly,
for which they then treat for free.
* * *
Roads to Russian bad weather
flowed through faith and joy;
the more collective the path to happiness,
the worse the overall hangover.
* * *
Years of unrighteous persecution
the invisible juice of infection oozes,
and in the spirit of future generations
silent metastases creep.
* * *
Personally, I am both servile and cruel,
and as long as this is my nature,
democracy is an artificial flower,
non-survivable without protection and care.
* * *
Life is both easy and entertaining,
although disgustingly unheard of,
when everything is clear in the era
and everything is just as hopeless.
* * *
There is one mysterious topic,
relating to our souls:
the crazier the decrepit system,
the more dangerous it is to destroy it at once.
* * *
Comfort and peace grace
the simplest is limited by the limit:
It’s dangerous to call black something black,
and it is dangerous to call white white.
* * *
The fate of the Russian evil spell
are friends with science these days,
smarter and subtler Janissaries
and they wear civilian clothes.
* * *
Russian character is glorified in the world,
it is being explored everywhere
it is so strangely vast,
that he himself yearns for a rein.
* * *
Winter does not immediately turn into summer,
Ice drift on the rivers in the spring is furious,
and bridges collapse, and remember this
useful for Russian optimists.
* * *
Dreams that our ancestors cherished,
they fed us too long,
and it’s a pity that there are only scraps
what remains of them now.
* * *
Life has its own, different shade,
and your sense of life,
when the dungeon is involved
in all its phenomena.
* * *
Neither laughter nor sin can control us
turn away from the brave path,
we build happiness for everyone at once,
and we don't care about everyone.
* * *
Outskirts, provinces of the soul,
where is our abomination, baseness and darkness,
waiting for the moment for years. And the descendants
then they wonder how fascism arose.
* * *
I'm afraid that where the darkness is clubby,
where are the secret springs and entrances,
mass suicide instinct
waters the roots of the tree of freedom.
* * *
You can have any pestilence porridge
start with the Gorlopansk youth,
which World War II
already a little confused with Trojan.
2
AMONG THE UNTHOUGHT VICTORIES OF CIVILIZATION WE ARE ALONE, LIKE CRUCICIAN IN THE SEWER
* * *
Any of us, until he died,
puts itself together piece by piece
of intelligence, sex, humor
and relations with authorities.
* * *
Someday, later, later,
but even in primers they will put a line,
what was done en masse and in droves
Each one solves it alone.
* * *
Since birth I have been painfully divided,
I rush from one extreme to the other,
my dear mother is harmony,
and dissonance is the father.
* * *
Between rumors, fairy tales, myths,
just lies, legends and opinions
we are fighting hotter than the Scythians
for the dissimilarity of misconceptions.
* * *
Swarming with aging children
everyone has tragedy and drama,
and I watch these performances
and lonely as Adam's dick.
* * *
I can't continue this life
and breaking up with her is painfully difficult;
the hardest thing is leaving
we are from where it is impossible to live.
* * *
Being rude to someone in our hearts,
terrible, probably
lose your temper one day
and not go back in.
* * *
Everyone is a blind door to himself,
he is his own criminal and judge,
himself and Mozart and Salieri,
oneself both an acorn and a pig.
* * *
We have a passion for words -
not a whim or a mania at all;
we need words
for the lie of mutual understanding.
* * *
Now enjoying, now grieving,
keeping to any path,
be yourself or you
they will imprison someone else.
* * *
In your image and spirit
The Creator sculpted us, creating origins,
and we keep likeness to Him
and maybe that’s why they’re so lonely.
* * *
Don't jump with age,
Be human;
otherwise you'll end up in shit
together with the century.
* * *
I look without complaining, like in the fall
blew the eyelids on white strands,
and I see with the same pleasure
fortune buttocks are ripe.
* * *
Flowing into earthly time
a coincidence of random coincidences,
any of us are so lonely
that he is happy from any connections.
* * *
Is it not in vain that knowledge is useless
Are we disturbing our dormant spirit?
In those who look into the abyss,
she looks too.
* * *
There is much happiness in clear faith
with her heavy load light,
Yes, it’s a pity that in a clean atmosphere
unbearable for my heavy lungs.
* * *
Although the excitement is sweet
take two roads at once,
you can't use just one deck of cards
play with both the devil and God.
* * *
It’s not easy to think about lofty things,
soaring with the soul in interstellar worlds,
when it's right around the corner
they sniff, chew and spoil the air.
* * *
We share time and cash
we share vodka, bread, accommodation for the night,
but the more distinct the personality,
the more lonely a person is.
* * *
And disgusting, and vile, and vile,
and the fear that you will become infected with swinishness,
and the cattle go astray
and happily bestial unity.
* * *
None of the closest in captivity
is not included in my experiences,
I keep my emotional calluses
from loving, sympathetic galoshes.
* * *
Partings whistle at the door,
I sit at the table lonely,
guys of champagne blood
become barrels of beer.
* * *
Cultivating the spirit's garden,
grunts humanitarian elite,
tormented by pain for the people
and changes of migraine and colitis.
* * *
With the success of science is inconsistent,
and whining - and try to drown out -
my inoperable ulcer
at the bottom of a non-existent soul.
* * *
This thought is a stolen flower
just a rhyme won't hurt her:
man is not alone at all!
Someone is always watching him.
* * *
With a soul divided like a hoof,
I am a stranger to both my fatherland -
Jew, where anti-Semites talk,
and Russian, where they sin with Zionanism.
* * *
Closer circle. Meetings become less and less frequent.
Loss and separation fly by;
some are no longer there, and those are far away,
and whoever is weak goes out into bitches.
* * *
The god of technology is different from the god of science;
the god of art is different from the god of war;
and God of love weakening hands
extends over them from on high.
* * *
You have to pay for so much
as long as existence flows,
that we should thank fate
for cases where you pay for your own.
* * *
In our jungle, fierce and stony,
I am not afraid of the ancient villains,
but I fear the innocent and the righteous,
selfless, holy and innocent.
* * *
The sons leave with their tails in the air,
and the daughters languish, sitting at home;
we plant seeds, grow flowers,
and after that we only see the buttocks.
* * *
When mediocrity swarms all around,
putting your cliché on life,
elitism is hidden in outcastry,
very useful to the soul.
* * *
I'm sorry for this blue sky,
sorry for the earth and the fragments of life;
I'm scared that well-fed pigs
worse than hungry wolves.
* * *
Friends are always a little picky.
And they have a tendency to ridicule.
Friends are always a little annoying.
Like loyalty and certainty.
* * *
The Lord sowed us like a vegetable garden,
but in the thickets of plants He grows,
we are divided into many breeds,
partially completely incompatible.
* * *
I live alone and stooped,
friends have died or are serving,
and where harmony flashed for me,
others will simply discover their ass.
* * *
With my departure the seam will stretch,
cutting right across the country
the country that will remain
and the one that is within me.
* * *
I suddenly lost the feeling of my elbow
with a crowd of swarming people,
and I feel bad like a fly in the ointment
It must be a bad ointment.
* * *
Sitting at a friendly, quiet funeral feast,
I thought, shaking the ashes into a saucer,
how often are losers in life
remain for centuries after death.
* * *
Where are the passions, where are the rage and horrors,
where army took up arms against army,
blessed is he who has enough courage
play the pipe quietly.
* * *
It's funny how fiercely it drives us
in a crowd of hubbub and feast
fear of staying again
in the desert of your own world.
* * *
Discord between fathers and children is a guarantee
those constant changes
in which God is looking for something,
playing with the change of generations.
* * *
Its own features, strokes and highlights
in the soul of everyone and everyone,
but incomprehensibly diverse,
we are equally lonely.
* * *
Changing goals and names,
changing forms, styles, types, -
as long as consciousness glows,
slaves build pyramids.
* * *
It's funny when a man, blooming thickly,
who ate a pound of salt with his native land,
suddenly finds himself sad,
that it seems like he's been fucked for a long time.
* * *
Blessed is he who takes care of the body
I sacrificed my whole life for bread,
but the sky is brighter above those
who occasionally looks at the sky.
* * *
The glow of the soul is varied,
invisible, tangible and piercing;
mental poisoning is contagious,
Mental health is contagious.
* * *
Leave. And live in safe warmth.
And remember. And suffer at night.
The soul is frozen to this frozen earth,
has grown into this rotten soil.
* * *
In everything he sees or hears,
finding an excuse for sadness,
bore - something like a roof,
flowing even without rain.
* * *
My friends! Forever tenderly devoted to you,
I was rewarded by your spiritual generosity;
I hope I won't be betrayed by you,
and this debt will not be collected by you.
* * *
It descends on us from above
from a bird's eye view
that happiness of a dream come true,
then a drop of liquid droppings.
* * *
There lived a man in a certain era,
he insisted with stubbornness,
she killed a man
and he became her pride.
* * *
There is no worse misfortune in life,
than separation from your beloved turmoil:
a person without a familiar environment
becomes Friday very quickly.
* * *
The complexity of our psyche is simple,
no more difficult than before:
hope is more important than possibility
hope will ever come true.
* * *
We are smart, and you, alas,
what's sad if
ass above head
if the ass is in the chair.
* * *
Call me late at night, friends,
do not be afraid to interfere and wake up;
the hour is terribly close when it is impossible
and there will be nowhere for us to call.
3
IN THE STRUGGLE FOR THE PEOPLE'S CAUSE I WAS A FOREIGN BODY
* * *
In the land of slaves forging slavery,
among the whores singing whores,
the sage lives as an anchorite,
in the wind while holding your dick.
* * *
How difficult it is in one sitting,
hesitating even if he’s right,
your destiny - vague text -
read it without distorting it anywhere.
* * *
Sprinkling yourself with poetry
and squandered a century like day,
I defiantly grab with my hands
now an echo, now a smell, now a shadow.
* * *
I look at everything that's happening
and I think: burn it with fire;
but I don’t lose my temper too much,
because the kingdom of God is within.
* * *
Having lived half a century day after day
and having grown wiser since the day of birth,
now I'm easy going
only to fall together.
* * *
Handsome, smart, slightly stooped,
full of worldviews
yesterday I looked into myself
and left in disgust.
* * *
I stubbornly believed in living life,
in simple reason and in the wisdom of jokes,
and all high matters
He gave away skirts to whores.
* * *
The fat ones, the splinters and the lame,
scarecrows, whores and beauties
like parallel lines
intersect in my soul.
* * *
I'm not ashamed to be an ardent skeptic
and in the soul there is not light, but darkness;
doubt is the best antiseptic
from decay of the mind.
* * *
The future - the taste does not spoil me,
I'm too lazy to tremble for the future;
think every day about a black day -
means to make black every day.
* * *
My disgust is dear to me,
who has been leading me for a long time:
even to spit at the enemy,
I don't put shit in my mouth.
* * *
I was lucky and lucky
judged and thought enlightenedly,
and not one pretty bra
in front of me he rose rapidly.
* * *
My sky is crystal clear
and full of rainbow pictures
not because the world is beautiful,
but because I'm a cretin.
* * *
An era is upon us,
and in the corner there is a bed,
and when I feel bad with my woman,
I don't care about the era.
* * *
I'm sticking to the loyal line
with the cool temper of the times;
It's better to be a corrupted cynic,
than the saints under investigation.
* * *
In my youth I waited for joy
from the bustle and whistling,
and I'm turning into old age
into a homosexual.
* * *
I live - you can't imagine better,
propping himself up with his shoulder,
one's own lonely companion,
not agreeing with himself on anything.
* * *
I write not disgustingly, but unevenly;
you are lazy to work, and idleness makes you angry.
I live amicably with a Jewish woman,
although at heart he is an anti-Semite.
* * *
That's why I love lying
and I spit at the ceiling,
that I don’t want to interfere with fate
to shape my destiny.
* * *
All the eternal Jews are sitting in me -
prophets, freethinkers, traders,
and, gesticulating to their heart's content, they make noise
in the darkness of an unsettled soul.
* * *
I don't need anything in the world
I want neither honors nor glory;
I enjoy my peace
tender, like in paradise after the raid.
* * *
Until the enema is given,
I am alive and quite alive;
the goat of my optimism
feeds on tryn grass.
* * *
I burn my candle at both ends,
not sparing flesh and fire,
so that when I am forever silent,
my loved ones got bored without me.
* * *
I'm not fit to be a hero -
neither in spirit nor in full face;
and I’m only slightly proud of one thing -
that I carry the cross with a dance.
* * *
I am among those who are extreme and furious,
lost his former interest:
the more aggressive the progressives are,
the uglier the progress.
* * *
Let the bazaar run in vain
who sees the goal. But I personally
took refuge in a life so private,
that he was partially deprived of his face.
* * *
I suddenly realized that I was living correctly,
that he is pure and, thank God, not mediocre,
according to the feeling that in a dream and in reality
I am grateful for everything that happens.
* * *
It's happiness to build a palace on the sand,
do not be afraid of prison and scrip,
indulge in love, surrender to longing,
feast in the epicenter of the plague.
* * *
My mind honestly serves my heart,
always whispering that you're lucky,
that everything could be much worse,
It could have been even worse.
* * *
I live without believing in anything,
I burn, without regret, a stray candle,
I’m silent about the find, I’m silent about the loss,
and most of all I am silent about hope.
* * *
I swear by the compote of my childhood
and I swear by the old man’s heating pads,
that I'm not afraid of anything,
by chance if I touch the truth.
* * *
What to grow from some point
we stop – it’s a big pity:
I'm probably only two centimeters
It's up to prudence.
* * *
In life's conflict, anyone
without narrowing my eyelids with pity,
it's hard to watch yourself
think well of a person.
* * *
I don't believe inveterate lies
about a gleam in the hazy darkness.
I despaired. And therefore
became a desperate optimist.
* * *
At all the crossroads that have been passed,
held me, wishing me happiness,
steel embrace of the motherland
and my neck and wrists.
* * *
On the tree of your genealogy
looking for my character in my ancestors,
I guess sadly that many
swing in a loop on these branches.
* * *
Tends to touch everything with the eye
my mind is shallow, but clear,
except in politics never
I did not fit deeper than the sole.
* * *
In everything, on an equal basis with everyone else,
like a drop of dew,
in only one way was he different from everyone else -
I couldn't live in shit.
* * *
A royal lot is possible for anyone,
All you need is the courage to get used to the role,
where destroyed is better than insignificant,
humiliated - like a deposed king.
* * *
Because laughter prevails in me
above the mind in the midst of life's battles,
fortune rewards me generously
the back of their medals.
* * *
Closed, bright and carefree
I'm floating in my own smoke;
bound by a common chain by chance,
I am only a neighbor in my time.
* * *
In this strange misery -
How am I living? What do I breathe?
Noise and rudeness reign in space,
noisy boor and boorish noise.
* * *
Someday I'll be famous
they will name a brand of cigarettes after me,
and the anti-Semitic linguist will find out,
that I was a Baltic Eskimo.
* * *
I didn’t come into this life because
to ride into the Senate on horseback,
I'm already completely satisfied with that
that no one envies me.
* * *
I was by no means a dummy,
however, he was not in ballet either;
I am the nobody who was nobody
and was very pleased with it.
* * *
I have a dream to protect
I will be the strength of its infusion:
When will they burn books again?
May they honor my fire.
* * *
I am proud that I became a proletarian;
without fatigue, without rest, without falsehood
I try, I strain and I work,
like a young lieutenant - a general's wife.
* * *
In the midst of the noisy desert of life,
where is the passion, and ambition, and struggle,
I have enough pride
to endure humility.
* * *
What is he like, my ideal reader?
I see it clearly:
he is a skeptic, a loser and a dreamer,
and it’s a pity that he doesn’t read anything.
* * *
The Lord plays with me cleverly,
and I joke about Him a little,
I like my rope,
So I kick my feet.
* * *
All my youth I loved trains,
so that hour is unknown to me,
when is my lucky star
came up and didn’t find me there.
* * *
Prison was by no means a paradise,
but I often thought, while smoking,
that, as you know, God is not a fraer,
which means I’m not sitting in vain.
* * *
The many ways in which time is dirty
the darkness of events, vile and vile,
I find the seed easily
in your own judgments and feelings.
* * *
Fornication of world rearrangements
and the delirium of merging in ecstasy -
have many common properties
with a tornado of flushing in the toilet.
* * *
The era is proud of me for my morality,
so that everyone knows about it everywhere,
will write my name forever
on a cloud, in the wind, in the rain.
* * *
Where will the soul be taken after death?
I don’t bargain with God;
the climate in paradise is much milder,
but a better society is in hell.
Dedicated to Yuliy Kitaevich - beloved friend, author of many of my poems
The flesh becomes fat.
The dust evaporates.
The years have passed
for a slow dinner.
And it's nice to think
that it was after all
and someone even needed it.
HOW TO SIMPLY TAKE FREEDOM FROM THE PEOPLE: IT MUST JUST BE TRUSTED BY THE PEOPLE
I feel sorry for Marx: his legacy
fell into the Russian font:
here the end justified the means,
and the means crap the goal.
For the benefit of the hegemonic class,
so that he reigns relentlessly,
available to search at any moment
a separate hegemon.
The human layer in us is just a little bit
layered unsteadily and alarmingly;
it’s easy to turn us back into cattle,
It's very difficult to get back up.
Forever we have erected a monument
madness, crashes and losses,
performing an experiment on blood,
brought a negative result.
I am young, in the remains of snot,
I'm afraid of shaking life like a pear:
It’s dark in their souls, like in their ass,
and in the ass there is an itch to satisfy the soul.
pressing, crushing and crushing,
fear reproduces itself
raises and feeds itself.
When stories are a draft
whistles for souls and powers,
one - a slug crawls into a hole,
the other is swollen like a boa constrictor.
Good without rejecting the means of evil,
according to them he reaps the results;
in paradise where resin is used,
archangels have hooves and horns.
When the fear is overwhelming
and the darkness is pierced by the barking of pursuits,
blessed is anyone who dares
Don't blow out the fire within yourself.
Having provided myself with a common phrase,
hostile to life and nature,
in unfreedom there is scum and evil spirits
he becomes more free to become a shepherd.
Freedom, looking impartially,
then only it becomes necessary,
when there's space inside me
wider than the external chamber.
Penetrating through the blood to the roots,
piercing the air of the sky,
bondage corrupts us more strongly,
than the most dissolute freedom.
We got it from our grandfathers today
an indifferent shadow of fatigue -
historical fatigue
possessed generation.
The spirit of the times, although not militant,
the surf still bloodied him;
committing suicide,
utopias are pulling us along.
Holding the pen and the eye in union,
It is not in vain that I eat my bread:
Russia – Gordian bathroom
the most pressing current problems.
I'm afraid of any trumpet howling,
looking habitually and soberly:
good, bitchy in the excitement of struggle,
gets angry coolly and playfully.
I was lucky: I knew the country
the only one in the world,
in his own captivity
in his living apartment.
Where they lie to themselves and to each other,
and memory does not serve the mind,
history goes in circles
from blood - through mud - into darkness.
They bloom fully and stubbornly
fruit progress seeds:
the snobbery of a plebeian, the swagger of a boor,
arrogance of shit.
In the years of corruption, lies and fear
narrow permitted sphere:
jokes below the groin are forbidden
and thoughts are beyond dick.
Not close to history, but familiar,
I see our glory very clearly:
we have become an unquenchable beacon,
shining on a course where it is dangerous.
Leading parties and classes,
the leaders never understood
that an idea thrown to the masses -
This is a girl thrown into the regiment.
Familiar, silent peoples,
silent roosters crow;
we are created for happiness and freedom,
like fish - for flight and fish soup.
All social systems -
from hierarchy to brotherhood -
knocking heads on problems
freedom, equality and whoreness.
The appointed cup to drink on time,
Russia – a lesson and concern for everyone -
crucified like Christ to redeem
the universal mortal sin of reconstruction.
In any extreme situation,
confused, anxious and hot,
calm confidence of the blind
more nightmarish than the confusion of the sighted.
Whatever the century, we are clearer and more audible
through the anguish of the liberal howl:
there is no more dangerous and there is no more harmful,
than freedom without a guard at all.
Us book of life is a darkness of strife
disconnects in every line,
and those who know do not know disputes -
they fuck us one by one.
The pulse beats at our temple
mental turmoil, evil coolness;
there is melancholy in the Russian spree,
easily inclined to cruelty.
Closing my eyes, covering my ears,
considering life as alms,
we take a break when they don't choke,
savored as a blessing.
Having sleep, food and work,
fate and power will not be contradicted,
and they fuck us mercilessly,
for which they then treat for free.
Roads to Russian bad weather
flowed through faith and joy;
the more collective the path to happiness,
the worse the overall hangover.
Years of unrighteous persecution
the invisible juice of infection oozes,
and in the spirit of future generations
silent metastases creep.
Personally, I am both servile and cruel,
and as long as this is my nature,
democracy is an artificial flower,
non-survivable without protection and care.
Life is both easy and entertaining,
although disgustingly unheard of,
when everything is clear in the era
and everything is just as hopeless.
There is one mysterious topic,
relating to our souls:
the crazier the decrepit system,
the more dangerous it is to destroy it at once.
Comfort and peace grace
the simplest is limited by the limit:
It’s dangerous to call black something black,
and it is dangerous to call white white.
The fate of the Russian evil spell
are friends with science these days,
smarter and subtler Janissaries
and they wear civilian clothes.
Russian character is glorified in the world,
it is being explored everywhere
it is so strangely vast,
that he himself yearns for a rein.
Winter does not immediately turn into summer,
Ice drift on the rivers in the spring is furious,
and bridges collapse, and remember this
useful for Russian optimists.
Dreams that our ancestors cherished,
they fed us too long,
and it’s a pity that there are only scraps
what remains of them now.
Life has its own, different shade,
and your sense of life,
when the dungeon is involved
in all its phenomena.
Neither laughter nor sin can control us
turn away from the brave path,
Although the excitement is sweet
Take two roads at once,
Not with just one deck of cards
Play with both the devil and God.
Alas, but improve the budget
You can't do it without getting your cuffs dirty.
Who understands the meaning and sense in life,
He closed down and fell silent a long time ago.
All of us, of course, we are brothers in mind,
Only very different.
In human activity boiling
I often feel sad
Stubbornness of a sitting hen
On eggs that were rotten from the start.
Anything with genuine fire
I defend in a cool argument,
For only by insisting on your own,
I understand that I was standing on the wrong side.
The language of lies is elastic and flexible,
And in his thoughts he is strictly impeccable,
And in the speech of truth there are a lot of mistakes
And the syllable is crippled by discord.
It suddenly becomes chilly and miserable,
And I have nowhere to put this feeling,
It's not hard to stand up for your beliefs
It is much more difficult to sit for them.
A lot of things in this wide world
In the life of different cities and villages,
I haven't met anything in the world
More cunning and more persistent than laziness.
All the controversy broke out again
And they flow again, boiling in vain;
You can't understand Russia with your mind,
And how to understand is again unclear.
In tune with folk wisdom
And my sad mind is sure,
What, no matter how my hole in the ass,
There's no way she'll become an eye.
Again I stand with my shoulders slumped,
Without taking your frozen eyes away:
How death tastes impeccable
In selecting the best among us.
To survive and live in this world,
Until the earth is thrown off its axis,
Keep yourself on the triple ban:
Don't be afraid, don't hope, don't ask.
Good is sad and boring,
And he looks lean and walks sideways,
And evil is abundant and bizarre,
With taste, smell and juice.
Live and sing. There is no need to rush.
Natural fine mechanism:
Any evil is its own poison
It poisons your body.
Life's highest jewel is
The spirit of undying doubts
Immutability is closer to the base,
To God - the constancy of change.
On your own hump and on someone else's
I came up with a simple concept:
It's pointless to go at a tank with a knife,
But if you really want it, then it’s worth it.
All my life I’ve been ready to crush stones,
While it is suitable to feed the family;
I don't need freedom at all
But you need to know that I am free.
Dead ends are useful for creativity:
Pain and powerlessness burn
Despite reason and fear
The soul is forced to leap.
Only in a frozen quagmire up to the neck,
On the fragility of the shaky bottom,
In everyday life of disasters, anxieties and deprivations
The feeling of happiness is given in full.
Having found a pretext for dialogue,
- How did you cook this broth? -
I'll ask God politely.
“Because of drunkenness,” He will say sadly.
Our creative ideas
Inseparable from the breath of retribution;
Prometheans create fire,
They use fire - herostrati.
Concern for life beyond the grave
Doesn't torment me at all;
Pouring into something eternal,
It won't be me anymore.
No matter how evil and disgusting triumph,
But hopes glimmer and persist:
The world will be saved by the holy trinity
Image, harmony and form.
Two meanings in life - internal and external,
The external one has business, family, success;
And the inner one is unclear and unearthly -
Everyone is responsible for everyone.
Igor Guberman
Dedicated to Yuliy Kitaevich - beloved friend, author of many of my poems
The flesh becomes fat.
The dust evaporates.
The years have passed
for a slow dinner.
And it's nice to think
that it was after all
and someone even needed it.
1
HOW TO SIMPLY TAKE FREEDOM FROM THE PEOPLE: IT MUST JUST BE TRUSTED BY THE PEOPLE
* * *
I feel sorry for Marx: his legacy
fell into the Russian font:
here the end justified the means,
and the means crap the goal.
* * *
For the benefit of the hegemonic class,
so that he reigns relentlessly,
available to search at any moment
a separate hegemon.
* * *
The human layer in us is just a little bit
layered unsteadily and alarmingly;
it’s easy to turn us back into cattle,
It's very difficult to get back up.
* * *
Forever we have erected a monument
madness, crashes and losses,
performing an experiment on blood,
brought a negative result.
* * *
I am young, in the remains of snot,
I'm afraid of shaking life like a pear:
It’s dark in their souls, like in their ass,
and in the ass there is an itch to satisfy the soul.
* * *
pressing, crushing and crushing,
fear reproduces itself
raises and feeds itself.
* * *
When stories are a draft
whistles for souls and powers,
one - a slug crawls into a hole,
the other is swollen like a boa constrictor.
* * *
Good without rejecting the means of evil,
according to them he reaps the results;
in paradise where resin is used,
archangels have hooves and horns.
* * *
When the fear is overwhelming
and the darkness is pierced by the barking of pursuits,
blessed is anyone who dares
Don't blow out the fire within yourself.
* * *
Having provided myself with a common phrase,
hostile to life and nature,
in unfreedom there is scum and evil spirits
he becomes more free to become a shepherd.
* * *
Freedom, looking impartially,
then only it becomes necessary,
when there's space inside me
wider than the external chamber.
* * *
Penetrating through the blood to the roots,
piercing the air of the sky,
bondage corrupts us more strongly,
than the most dissolute freedom.
* * *
We got it from our grandfathers today
an indifferent shadow of fatigue -
historical fatigue
possessed generation.
* * *
The spirit of the times, although not militant,
the surf still bloodied him;
committing suicide,
utopias are pulling us along.
* * *
Holding the pen and the eye in union,
It is not in vain that I eat my bread:
Russia – Gordian bathroom
the most pressing current problems.
* * *
I'm afraid of any trumpet howling,
looking habitually and soberly:
good, bitchy in the excitement of struggle,
gets angry coolly and playfully.
* * *
I was lucky: I knew the country
the only one in the world,
in his own captivity
in his living apartment.
* * *
Where they lie to themselves and to each other,
and memory does not serve the mind,
history goes in circles
from blood - through mud - into darkness.
* * *
They bloom fully and stubbornly
fruit progress seeds:
the snobbery of a plebeian, the swagger of a boor,
arrogance of shit.
* * *
In the years of corruption, lies and fear
narrow permitted sphere:
jokes below the groin are forbidden
and thoughts are beyond dick.
* * *
Not close to history, but familiar,
I see our glory very clearly:
we have become an unquenchable beacon,
shining on a course where it is dangerous.
* * *
Leading parties and classes,
the leaders never understood
that an idea thrown to the masses -
This is a girl thrown into the regiment.
* * *
Familiar, silent peoples,
silent roosters crow;
we are created for happiness and freedom,
like fish - for flight and fish soup.
* * *
All social systems -
from hierarchy to brotherhood -
knocking heads on problems
freedom, equality and whoreness.
* * *
The appointed cup to drink on time,
Russia – a lesson and concern for everyone -
crucified like Christ to redeem
the universal mortal sin of reconstruction.
* * *
In any extreme situation,
confused, anxious and hot,
calm confidence of the blind
more nightmarish than the confusion of the sighted.
* * *
Whatever the century, we are clearer and more audible
through the anguish of the liberal howl:
there is no more dangerous and there is no more harmful,
than freedom without a guard at all.
* * *
Us book of life is a darkness of strife
disconnects in every line,
and those who know do not know disputes -
they fuck us one by one.
* * *
The pulse beats at our temple
mental turmoil, evil coolness;
there is melancholy in the Russian spree,
easily inclined to cruelty.
* * *
Closing my eyes, covering my ears,
considering life as alms,
we take a break when they don't choke,
savored as a blessing.
* * *
Having sleep, food and work,
fate and power will not be contradicted,
and they fuck us mercilessly,
for which they then treat for free.
* * *
Roads to Russian bad weather
flowed through faith and joy;
the more collective the path to happiness,
the worse the overall hangover.
* * *
Years of unrighteous persecution
the invisible juice of infection oozes,
and in the spirit of future generations
silent metastases creep.
* * *
Personally, I am both servile and cruel,
and as long as this is my nature,
democracy is an artificial flower,
non-survivable without protection and care.
* * *
Life is both easy and entertaining,
although disgustingly unheard of,
when everything is clear in the era
and everything is just as hopeless.
* * *
There is one mysterious topic,
relating to our souls:
the crazier the decrepit system,
the more dangerous it is to destroy it at once.
* * *
Comfort and peace grace
the simplest is limited by the limit:
It’s dangerous to call black something black,
and it is dangerous to call white white.
* * *
The fate of the Russian evil spell
are friends with science these days,
smarter and subtler Janissaries
and they wear civilian clothes.
* * *
Russian character is glorified in the world,
it is being explored everywhere
it is so strangely vast,
that he himself yearns for a rein.
* * *
Winter does not immediately turn into summer,
Ice drift on the rivers in the spring is furious,
and bridges collapse, and remember this
useful for Russian optimists.
* * *
Dreams that our ancestors cherished,
they fed us too long,
and it’s a pity that there are only scraps
what remains of them now.
* * *
Life has its own, different shade,
and your sense of life,
when the dungeon is involved
in all its phenomena.
* * *
Neither laughter nor sin can control us
turn away from the brave path,
we build happiness for everyone at once,
and we don't care about everyone.
* * *
Outskirts, provinces of the soul,
where is our abomination, baseness and darkness,
waiting for the moment for years.
And the descendants
then they wonder how fascism arose.
* * *
I'm afraid that where the darkness is clubby,
where are the secret springs and entrances,
mass suicide instinct
waters the roots of the tree of freedom.
* * *
You can have any pestilence porridge
start with the Gorlopansk youth,
which World War II
already a little confused with Trojan.
2
AMONG THE UNTHOUGHT VICTORIES OF CIVILIZATION WE ARE ALONE, LIKE CRUCICIAN IN THE SEWER
* * *
Any of us, until he died,
puts itself together piece by piece
of intelligence, sex, humor
and relations with authorities.
* * *
Someday, later, later,
but even in primers they will put a line,
what was done en masse and in droves
Each one solves it alone.
* * *
Since birth I have been painfully divided,
I rush from one extreme to the other,
my dear mother is harmony,
and dissonance is the father.
* * *
Between rumors, fairy tales, myths,
just lies, legends and opinions
we are fighting hotter than the Scythians
for the dissimilarity of misconceptions.
* * *
Swarming with aging children
everyone has tragedy and drama,
and I watch these performances
and lonely as Adam's dick.
* * *
I can't continue this life
and breaking up with her is painfully difficult;
the hardest thing is leaving
we are from where it is impossible to live.
* * *
Being rude to someone in our hearts,
terrible, probably
lose your temper one day
and not go back in.
* * *
Everyone is a blind door to himself,
he is his own criminal and judge,
himself and Mozart and Salieri,
oneself both an acorn and a pig.
* * *
We have a passion for words -
not a whim or a mania at all;
we need words
for the lie of mutual understanding.
* * *
Now enjoying, now grieving,
keeping to any path,
be yourself or you
they will imprison someone else.
* * *
In your image and spirit
The Creator sculpted us, creating origins,
and we keep likeness to Him
and maybe that’s why they’re so lonely.
* * *
Don't jump with age,
Be human;
otherwise you'll end up in shit
together with the century.
* * *
I look without complaining, like in the fall
blew the eyelids on white strands,
and I see with the same pleasure
fortune buttocks are ripe.
* * *
Flowing into earthly time
a coincidence of random coincidences,
any of us are so lonely
that he is happy from any connections.
* * *
Is it not in vain that knowledge is useless
Are we disturbing our dormant spirit?
In those who look into the abyss,
she looks too.
* * *
There is much happiness in clear faith
with her heavy load light,
Yes, it’s a pity that in a clean atmosphere
unbearable for my heavy lungs.
* * *
Although the excitement is sweet
take two roads at once,
you can't use just one deck of cards
play with both the devil and God.
* * *
It’s not easy to think about lofty things,
soaring with the soul in interstellar worlds,
when it's right around the corner
they sniff, chew and spoil the air.
* * *
We share time and cash
we share vodka, bread, accommodation for the night,
but the more distinct the personality,
the more lonely a person is.
* * *
And disgusting, and vile, and vile,
and the fear that you will become infected with swinishness,
and the cattle go astray
and happily bestial unity.
* * *
None of the closest in captivity
is not included in my experiences,
I keep my emotional calluses
from loving, sympathetic galoshes.
* * *
Partings whistle at the door,
I sit at the table lonely,
guys of champagne blood
become barrels of beer.
* * *
Cultivating the spirit's garden,
grunts humanitarian elite,
tormented by pain for the people
and changes of migraine and colitis.
* * *
With the success of science is inconsistent,
and whining - and try to drown out -
my inoperable ulcer
at the bottom of a non-existent soul.
* * *
This thought is a stolen flower
just a rhyme won't hurt her:
man is not alone at all!
Someone is always watching him.
* * *
With a soul divided like a hoof,
I am a stranger to both my fatherland -
Jew, where anti-Semites talk,
and Russian, where they sin with Zionanism.
* * *
Closer circle. Meetings become less and less frequent.
Loss and separation fly by;
some are no longer there, and those are far away,
and whoever is weak goes out into bitches.
* * *
The god of technology is different from the god of science;
the god of art is different from the god of war;
and God of love weakening hands
extends over them from on high.
* * *
You have to pay for so much
as long as existence flows,
that we should thank fate
for cases where you pay for your own.
* * *
In our jungle, fierce and stony,
I am not afraid of the ancient villains,
but I fear the innocent and the righteous,
selfless, holy and innocent.
* * *
The sons leave with their tails in the air,
and the daughters languish, sitting at home;
we plant seeds, grow flowers,
and after that we only see the buttocks.
* * *
When mediocrity swarms all around,
putting your cliché on life,
elitism is hidden in outcastry,
very useful to the soul.
* * *
I'm sorry for this blue sky,
sorry for the earth and the fragments of life;
I'm scared that well-fed pigs
worse than hungry wolves.
* * *
Friends are always a little picky.
And they have a tendency to ridicule.
Friends are always a little annoying.
Like loyalty and certainty.
* * *
The Lord sowed us like a vegetable garden,
but in the thickets of plants He grows,
we are divided into many breeds,
partially completely incompatible.
* * *
I live alone and stooped,
friends have died or are serving,
and where harmony flashed for me,
others will simply discover their ass.
* * *
With my departure the seam will stretch,
cutting right across the country
the country that will remain
and the one that is within me.
* * *
I suddenly lost the feeling of my elbow
with a crowd of swarming people,
and I feel bad like a fly in the ointment
It must be a bad ointment.
* * *
Sitting at a friendly, quiet funeral feast,
I thought, shaking the ashes into a saucer,
how often are losers in life
remain for centuries after death.
* * *
Where are the passions, where are the rage and horrors,
where army took up arms against army,
blessed is he who has enough courage
play the pipe quietly.
* * *
It's funny how fiercely it drives us
in a crowd of hubbub and feast
fear of staying again
in the desert of your own world.
* * *
Discord between fathers and children is a guarantee
those constant changes
in which God is looking for something,
playing with the change of generations.
* * *
Its own features, strokes and highlights
in the soul of everyone and everyone,
but incomprehensibly diverse,
we are equally lonely.
* * *
Changing goals and names,
changing forms, styles, types, -
as long as consciousness glows,
slaves build pyramids.
* * *
It's funny when a man, blooming thickly,
who ate a pound of salt with his native land,
suddenly finds himself sad,
that it seems like he's been fucked for a long time.
* * *
Blessed is he who takes care of the body
I sacrificed my whole life for bread,
but the sky is brighter above those
who occasionally looks at the sky.
* * *
The glow of the soul is varied,
invisible, tangible and piercing;
mental poisoning is contagious,
Mental health is contagious.
* * *
Leave. And live in safe warmth.
And remember. And suffer at night.
The soul is frozen to this frozen earth,
has grown into this rotten soil.
* * *
In everything he sees or hears,
finding an excuse for sadness,
bore - something like a roof,
flowing even without rain.
* * *
My friends! Forever tenderly devoted to you,
I was rewarded by your spiritual generosity;
I hope I won't be betrayed by you,
and this debt will not be collected by you.
* * *
It descends on us from above
from a bird's eye view
that happiness of a dream come true,
then a drop of liquid droppings.
* * *
There lived a man in a certain era,
he insisted with stubbornness,
she killed a man
and he became her pride.
* * *
There is no worse misfortune in life,
than separation from your beloved turmoil:
a person without a familiar environment
becomes Friday very quickly.
* * *
The complexity of our psyche is simple,
no more difficult than before:
hope is more important than possibility
hope will ever come true.
* * *
We are smart, and you, alas,
what's sad if
ass above head
if the ass is in the chair.
* * *
Call me late at night, friends,
do not be afraid to interfere and wake up;
the hour is terribly close when it is impossible
and there will be nowhere for us to call.
3
IN THE STRUGGLE FOR THE PEOPLE'S CAUSE I WAS A FOREIGN BODY
* * *
In the land of slaves forging slavery,
among the whores singing whores,
the sage lives as an anchorite,
in the wind while holding your dick.
* * *
How difficult it is in one sitting,
hesitating even if he’s right,
your destiny - vague text -
read it without distorting it anywhere.
* * *
Sprinkling yourself with poetry
and squandered a century like day,
I defiantly grab with my hands
now an echo, now a smell, now a shadow.
* * *
I look at everything that's happening
and I think: burn it with fire;
but I don’t lose my temper too much,
because the kingdom of God is within.
* * *
Having lived half a century day after day
and having grown wiser since the day of birth,
now I'm easy going
only to fall together.
* * *
Handsome, smart, slightly stooped,
full of worldviews
yesterday I looked into myself
and left in disgust.
* * *
I stubbornly believed in living life,
in simple reason and in the wisdom of jokes,
and all high matters
He gave away skirts to whores.
* * *
The fat ones, the splinters and the lame,
scarecrows, whores and beauties
like parallel lines
intersect in my soul.
* * *
I'm not ashamed to be an ardent skeptic
and in the soul there is not light, but darkness;
doubt is the best antiseptic
from decay of the mind.
* * *
The future - the taste does not spoil me,
I'm too lazy to tremble for the future;
think every day about a black day -
means to make black every day.
* * *
My disgust is dear to me,
who has been leading me for a long time:
even to spit at the enemy,
I don't put shit in my mouth.
* * *
I was lucky and lucky
judged and thought enlightenedly,
and not one pretty bra
in front of me he rose rapidly.
* * *
My sky is crystal clear
and full of rainbow pictures
not because the world is beautiful,
but because I'm a cretin.
* * *
An era is upon us,
and in the corner there is a bed,
and when I feel bad with my woman,
I don't care about the era.
* * *
I'm sticking to the loyal line
with the cool temper of the times;
It's better to be a corrupted cynic,
than the saints under investigation.
* * *
In my youth I waited for joy
from the bustle and whistling,
and I'm turning into old age
into a homosexual.
* * *
I live - you can't imagine better,
propping himself up with his shoulder,
one's own lonely companion,
not agreeing with himself on anything.
* * *
I write not disgustingly, but unevenly;
you are lazy to work, and idleness makes you angry.
I live amicably with a Jewish woman,
although at heart he is an anti-Semite.
* * *
That's why I love lying
and I spit at the ceiling,
that I don’t want to interfere with fate
to shape my destiny.
* * *
All the eternal Jews are sitting in me -
prophets, freethinkers, traders,
and, gesticulating to their heart's content, they make noise
in the darkness of an unsettled soul.
* * *
I don't need anything in the world
I want neither honors nor glory;
I enjoy my peace
tender, like in paradise after the raid.
* * *
Until the enema is given,
I am alive and quite alive;
the goat of my optimism
feeds on tryn grass.
* * *
I burn my candle at both ends,
not sparing flesh and fire,
so that when I am forever silent,
my loved ones got bored without me.
* * *
I'm not fit to be a hero -
neither in spirit nor in full face;
and I’m only slightly proud of one thing -
that I carry the cross with a dance.
* * *
I am among those who are extreme and furious,
lost his former interest:
the more aggressive the progressives are,
the uglier the progress.
* * *
Let the bazaar run in vain
who sees the goal. But I personally
took refuge in a life so private,
that he was partially deprived of his face.
* * *
I suddenly realized that I was living correctly,
that he is pure and, thank God, not mediocre,
according to the feeling that in a dream and in reality
I am grateful for everything that happens.
* * *
It's happiness to build a palace on the sand,
do not be afraid of prison and scrip,
indulge in love, surrender to longing,
feast in the epicenter of the plague.
* * *
My mind honestly serves my heart,
always whispering that you're lucky,
that everything could be much worse,
It could have been even worse.
* * *
I live without believing in anything,
I burn, without regret, a stray candle,
I’m silent about the find, I’m silent about the loss,
and most of all I am silent about hope.
* * *
I swear by the compote of my childhood
and I swear by the old man’s heating pads,
that I'm not afraid of anything,
by chance if I touch the truth.
* * *
What to grow from some point
we stop – it’s a big pity:
I'm probably only two centimeters
It's up to prudence.
* * *
In life's conflict, anyone
without narrowing my eyelids with pity,
it's hard to watch yourself
think well of a person.
* * *
I don't believe inveterate lies
about a gleam in the hazy darkness.
I despaired. And therefore
became a desperate optimist.
* * *
At all the crossroads that have been passed,
held me, wishing me happiness,
steel embrace of the motherland
and my neck and wrists.
* * *
On the tree of your genealogy
looking for my character in my ancestors,
I guess sadly that many
swing in a loop on these branches.
* * *
Tends to touch everything with the eye
my mind is shallow, but clear,
except in politics never
I did not fit deeper than the sole.
* * *
In everything, on an equal basis with everyone else,
like a drop of dew,
in only one way was he different from everyone else -
I couldn't live in shit.
* * *
A royal lot is possible for anyone,
All you need is the courage to get used to the role,
where destroyed is better than insignificant,
humiliated - like a deposed king.
* * *
Because laughter prevails in me
above the mind in the midst of life's battles,
fortune rewards me generously
the back of their medals.
* * *
Closed, bright and carefree
I'm floating in my own smoke;
bound by a common chain by chance,
I am only a neighbor in my time.
* * *
In this strange misery -
How am I living? What do I breathe?
Noise and rudeness reign in space,
noisy boor and boorish noise.
* * *
Someday I'll be famous
they will name a brand of cigarettes after me,
and the anti-Semitic linguist will find out,
that I was a Baltic Eskimo.
* * *
I didn’t come into this life because
to ride into the Senate on horseback,
I'm already completely satisfied with that
that no one envies me.
* * *
I was by no means a dummy,
however, he was not in ballet either;
I am the nobody who was nobody
and was very pleased with it.
* * *
I have a dream to protect
I will be the strength of its infusion:
When will they burn books again?
May they honor my fire.
* * *
I am proud that I became a proletarian;
without fatigue, without rest, without falsehood
I try, I strain and I work,
like a young lieutenant - a general's wife.
* * *
In the midst of the noisy desert of life,
where is the passion, and ambition, and struggle,
I have enough pride
to endure humility.
* * *
What is he like, my ideal reader?
I see it clearly:
he is a skeptic, a loser and a dreamer,
and it’s a pity that he doesn’t read anything.
* * *
The Lord plays with me cleverly,
and I joke about Him a little,
I like my rope,
So I kick my feet.
* * *
All my youth I loved trains,
so that hour is unknown to me,
when is my lucky star
came up and didn’t find me there.
* * *
Prison was by no means a paradise,
but I often thought, while smoking,
that, as you know, God is not a fraer,
which means I’m not sitting in vain.
* * *
The many ways in which time is dirty
the darkness of events, vile and vile,
I find the seed easily
in your own judgments and feelings.
* * *
Fornication of world rearrangements
and the delirium of merging in ecstasy -
have many common properties
with a tornado of flushing in the toilet.
* * *
The era is proud of me for my morality,
so that everyone knows about it everywhere,
will write my name forever
on a cloud, in the wind, in the rain.
* * *
Where will the soul be taken after death?
I don’t bargain with God;
the climate in paradise is much milder,
but a better society is in hell.
4
FAMILY IS GIVEN TO US, IT IS A REPLACEMENT FOR HAPPINESS
* * *
A woman has been famous for centuries
everything that makes a family wonderful;
woman is man's friend
even when he's a pig.
* * *
The jailer is efficient and intelligent,
life locks us in for a long time,
closing soft shackles
love, familiarity and duty.
* * *
A man is a boor, a bore, a despot,
tormentor, miser and dullard;
so that we know this,
we should just get married.
* * *
The Creator gave a woman's face
ability to transform:
first we bring the sheep into the house,
and then we suffer from the she-wolf.
* * *
After eating pounds of joint porridge
and gave years to the struggle,
all the good things in our women
we owe it to ourselves.
* * *
Not the fate of the coming cloud,
not the quagmire of low everyday life,
it torments us the most
the nearness of our loved ones.
* * *
Am I wandering through the noise of the street,
I eat porridge or take a bath on Saturdays,
I ponder thoughtfully:
Why do they think I'm an idiot?
* * *
I lived as a bachelor for a long time,
and my life was pretty empty,
although he had one trifle:
freedom of smell, color and taste.
* * *
Family is the most reliable blessing,
boat in everyday bad weather,
and only moisture is comparable to it,
with which this happiness is easier.
* * *
Don't scold me, friend,
take a break from the bustle,
everyone eats each other anyway
and you and me too.
* * *
To prevent the family from dying out,
God sent us a wife,
and give strangers a spoonful of honey
the cunning Satan pours in.
* * *
Children are nailed to the family,
we protect the peace of our spouse;
nothing is worth a wife's tears,
except for hugging a friend.
* * *
My happy face
won't blab anything;
I wear a ring on my finger,
and with my neck I feel it.
* * *
Because there is a crack in the family,
Everywhere there is one reason:
the woman in the wife has awakened,
a man fell asleep in her husband.
* * *
Started a family. Children were born.
I wander around looking for coins.
It is impossible to live without women in the world,
