that intonations

Oh that ugly girl with no chin.
Her ugly mom and dad called her a princess,
And she grew up with great ambition and vulnerability.
What, pale children of dungeons, deserts and mountains, shall we tell the barrel the truth at last?
We'll give her a filterless mirror.
We have no name, children of the dungeon,
but we'll cover ourselves in any name of God.
A quadrocitl is good for a toddler who hasn't learned to ride on two wheels.
Praise the lords!

Ouija, I know that tone of revenge.
The poet Kormiltsev died almost immediately after hearing them.
And then they sounded almost without a sound.
That was a long time ago, now they sound louder and louder.
These revenge intonations are pure evil, Ouija.

Turn off that radio wave, quick.
What? Christmas in the city of London? A night patti?
They should go to a pub like gentlemen.

Turn it off and put it on jazz.
I'm as old-fashioned as an old English lady in the last century.
Like a nun of the milk and cocoa missionaries in the New World.
Bring me some tea and a blanket.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)