A friend is walking, bypasses heaps,
so slowly, the clouds came.
In a glass with a bit, wine from bread,
And smoke, if it's treasure.
Sitting in the basement, blowing out the candles
I kiss on the lips, where there is no speech.
She will hold the boob with her hands,
well, and the picture where the son is with Ivan.
The dawn rises and the windows go out
the whole body is trembling, it is wet.
I am not a king, you are not a princess
And there is no interest in you.
I put a pen in, held it up to my ear,
and whispered that I was Petruha.
And the stars in the sky are already extinguished
I looked into my eyes, they died away * ...
* translation from Uzbek
Have you sung, kvochka?
© Copyright: Анатолий Волков 58, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121061306636
Свидетельство о публикации №121061306636
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