| Do not cover your face with a rag,
|
| After all, there will soon be nothing left for you,
|
| I could hang out between two capitals,
|
| But I don't know who I'll have to bow to.
|
| Friends, all around is ignorance,
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| Disbelief and no information.
|
| Oh girls, oh the beauty of your freshness
|
| There is another hurdle for truth.
|
| Whether the drum rumbles or the pipe cries -
|
| I'm all the same if it's right
|
| But if a bitch with a handbag walks nearby,
|
| I am not sure that this is correct.
|
| Why, tell me, am I not sure about the future?
|
| After all, the past sounds - a discordant string,
|
| And I will meet the real one in the bakery,
|
| Ah, the new is so obscene.
|
| But there is a guarantee that everything is fine in the future
|
| Not dust and heat, but a pleasant cloud,
|
| A magical moment - a bitch comes with a handbag,
|
| In it, every movement is incomprehensible.
|
| Ah, this moment, ah, bitter brew,
|
| Let the beer ferment in the barrel along with the malt,
|
| After all, life could be pure soaring,
|
| But the sky poured rain and cold.
|
| There were no pleasures, no clothes -
|
| An army in shirts passes by,
|
| Her hearts nestled between,
|
| Like sound in five-line lines.
|
| A thread was stretched at five ends,
|
| And the insect does not want to live,
|
| It does not want to breathe, nevertheless,
|
| No one can know his intentions. |