Вторник, 17.10.2017
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The one who stole the rain (BG)
 
I think you did not consider yourself god,
You just wanted to upstairs,
Reasonably after deciding that there warmer than below.
And I'm curious, how do you
Feel there now –
Now that all the logs in your eye;
 
You laughed in the face, you shot in the back,
You threw to me the sand in the eyes;
You created your karma for ten lives forward.
You thought that if the two are silent,
That and the third should be "for",
Forgetting to clarify, by what you sewed up to him mouth.
 
Now it's time us to say goodbye, but I won't offer my hand,
I'm sorry for you, but your fingers in the dirt;
And I don't care how you will live
Beside murdered by you river,
And what you feel in this regard.
 
You lived by selling to virgins
Your portrait on the ruble in half an hour –
The one that I painted from you the day before yesterday;
You shouted about the winds – but woe to him 
Who framed you sails:
After all in the stand "attention" froze your weathervanes;
 
And you're flutist, but it's not a flute of heaven,
It's not even a flute of earth;
Thank god, you didn't have time to cause harm.
After all I said that they would fall –
And they've interred you;
Heavens without the rain weren't yet never.
 
Don't wait from me your pardon, don't wait from me a trial;
You yourself are your court, you yourself have built jail.
But if a certain angel
Accidentally will enter here –
I would like to know, what you will answer him.


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