Five brilliant artifacts of a mysterious programmer. Daniel Gimaev

ages are submissive to love,

      Both young and old he is,

      But there are no such facts and times,

      Which we can’t control.

      Only a man in love,

      Goes to his death, and backhands,

      Beats his chest like a macaque,

      There is a love primrose in it.

      It will pass and be remembered,

      Days, their happy turn,

      But there will be no sadness-it,

      It just feels like reality.

      On foot

      Pedestrians walk along the streets,

      And there are gases from turbines, slags, a mixture,

      What a nice day it was, winter,

      And there are kids walking around, but the workshop.