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Doubt, like the rash of leprosy in the sleepless nights of crushed chest eats our Conceived metastases thee way … Still Hope wash the black white-minute, at the age of distemper dreary Forbidden print bed. How will you, will I know when rush in a different saddle. But ditch daisies and Gad, and of you and me … NIGHT OF DOUBT In Lodeynoye pole Rasshumelis worrying birches Lofty Svir froze. Ohmelevshy parting of the board who live near the porch to light. Eyebrows knitted tight windows, gritted his teeth iron bolt: Like a fortress stood a little hut under protection of the all-seeing owls. Do wrong yard, or Ladoga all lied, Do other people’s gifts for oak wall stopped? Roosters are already singing about the morning, the Scarlet curtain hid the stars, wind whined as proruha old woman: “What are you doing at night it is not wake? “.
Come to me, come to my house and pick up a potion of memory. Quicken in me poduvyavshy sleep drugged melancholy song of youth. Tell me, my friend, do not feel sorry for the words about the last ball, and about the eternal debate. Whirled suddenly something head … Yes – it was so, it’s not nonsense: As we searched for the temple of the ancient Scythians and changed names, beat lights, and the girls smiled at us with guitar moan and my poems, and in all courts of Our shop, was crowded in the parks and gardens – to relearn the basics ABC How to love and live in the cities of adults.
