here Pechkin, And his bicycle, it near it.
The fountain – the favourite of children, Fine composition of fun.
The fountain of miracles is there, of the fairy tale not to consider Pushkin, There the cat everything goes on a chain around, Telling us fairy tales.
Fairy tales, verses, stories, the Favourite poet – Pushkin fairy tales are loved.
There Chekhov at recreation center lives,
There the lady waits for the doggie, she Sits on a bench, it is powdered with snow.
Winter – winter, winter!
There the bee Maya at the road costs, Is beautiful and alive!
The bee – children is time, it Is loved by all.
Here Buratino, Durimar,
Tartila here, with it a key gold.
There Karabas, his theater there,
There Artemon, Malvina there.
There foxes and cat, two sly fellows of darlings of the childhood.
To the favourite fairy tale of the childhood.
There the uncle Stepa is a militiaman, He keeps order.
There our fairy tales lodged, There we live, in the beautiful city – native.
About the Russian land
Young Russia! – Favourite country;
Young Russia! – Beautiful country;
Young Russia! – Great country;
Young Russia! – Power, my Russia:
Open spaces are wide! – Streams are clean;
The woods are dense. – a gold birchwood’s;
Open spaces of free Russia are clean! – Are infinite, they – are great!
Our open spaces are wide! – Clean mother earth!
About female beauty
About! – Wife's! Fine creation,
In love fine their blossoming of petals.
Beauty of a bud – love weeds, Tsvetkov of their fine scarlet petals.
Blossoming on terrestrial open spaces, Love of flowers, love of fine petals of love.
Weeds souls, in open spaces distant, In love of fine purity – souls, flight of love of flowers fine female purity.
About the Woman
About! – Women! You are so beautiful;
About! – Women! You are so artful;
About! – Women! You are so clean:
Women are beautiful! – Are loved;
Women are beautiful! – Are clever;
Beloveds! – Are beautiful;
Women are desired! – Are loved;
Women are beautiful! – Are harmonious:
Verses it is full of soul of the poet,
About! – Women! – Soul of the poet.
Portrait, artist El Greco.
The mystery of Christmas is fine,
My beloved.
Beauty fine beam sun gold, Dawn, fine dawn of a morning dawn.
About dashing guys
Bloody sport, sport of heroes of glory!
Heroes of glory, cemetery rest.
Dashing times, robbery of the ninetieth.
Dashing guys, automatic machine squall, Murders and prison, and here skilly.
The shooter dashing on plank beds sits, And remembers days of the former fires.
When they the bloody power were, He remembers days dashing.
Where they controlled an obshor, In a money power, it was blinded.
In a game without rules, automatic machines a squall, In a game of bloody that.
In it a rate life, in it loss death, In dashing the beginning of the ninetieth.
Dashing guys, here their god, he Sits in a chair warm.
Also you will not believe that he is a god, Dashing guys cheerful.
It is clean as a new pin, the Exemplary family man.
It all an example, Hera – bloody color.
The stream, this life turn, And here it flows, here death goes.
Dashing guys everything are dead, one is Only barefoot blossoms.
Though in prison, he rules the world, It the power, he is a God, it justice of calm of graves.
Lying there from bullets are killed, People there is nothing the innocent.
Bloody throne, sitting on it,
Bloody God. – Murderer it.
Bloody God. – Cruel it.
The governor it is cruel.
Who is he such is? – He is a person.
Or he is a tyrant cruel?
Fan of money it bloody, Or simply нелюдь it?
He to live is worthy? – It seems not, End bloody harrow.
It lies among graves now, Among those who were killed by it.
Last and that time, came is new, But the spirit a harrow still blossoms.
His favourite flower murderer, Darling color its green.
He here, among people, He is our daily savior.
It is ruble or dollar, to us all the same, It brought life and death to our house,
The favourite guy our worthy, Is beautiful it, its green color, We everything wish it, our Favourite savior.
Other people
We are not such as the friend, We not such as others, despise Us, do not notice Us, We are absent just for you, And we live, we live, we live.
All of us are such as others, We all such as others, We are people society, we live in it.
Among those who hate us, Among those who despise us, that we others, We not such as they.
Well both others we, and that?
Who for it will ask us?
We live among bad people people Who despise us, monsters.
But we such, as well as you!
Only on a birth a body we are changed, We feel like nobody by whom we are given birth, And that such is? We are innocent!
In the one whom we were born in the childhood.
Our gene other than our body, We are captives of the prison.
We are not wanted nobody! – We are not wanted to be listened.
We are absent just! – We are societies of derelicts.
We are the people all others born by others, We are societies of derelicts, Prisons – the soul.
Given rise in an imprisonment the.
Soul and body, Fine flower faded petal.
From a cage of won’s
I like to put on dresses, I Want to become a woman.
I