Autumn descended on the benches where idle people were waiting for the tram.
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The police took me to court in my master's padded jacket.
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At the bus stop hiding their eyes, the people whispered among themselves:
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"Well, and an outfit, a walking chanson and a dancer behind your back."
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The bum woke up, who was sleeping at the post office: “Why, comrade policeman,
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Servant of the Almighty, you are driving like a fanatic to the tram."
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“There is no gasoline,” said the lady, “But there are thieves, look at him,
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Izh, as he glares with his eyes, look at what he will stop.
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And until the blood in the joints squeezed the faded arctic fox for eyelids.
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"It was not enough to carry them, put them against the wall and that's it."
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The bum wiped himself with a gypsy tear: "The chicken also wants to live."
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Shooting in the morning is not Christian, first you need to have a hangover.
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Onlookers were not going to break through, there was a split in the crowd, a scandal was ripe
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And the ninth wave descended from heaven on orange faces.
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On an autumn day, the rains are slanting, you definitely won’t find the truth.
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But for unfortunate Russia, a homeless man stood up in the urn with a bottle.
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He crossed himself in insight, and said: Brothers, God is with us.
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The sergeant rushed ahead and pulled the urn out from under his feet.
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And he yelled: “Calm down, people, yes, and, in general, it’s not very good here.
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Without you, the criminal will be convicted, there is a people's court for this.
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And I stood looking at the autumn, at the golden withered paradise.
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But, finally, number eight came, apparently, a tram.
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And the compassionate old woman handed me a pie.
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“This is how my son Vanyushka winds up the term in the mines.”
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Now I'll hardly see you, oh, I can't wait, I don't have enough strength"
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And the Face of God, in a downy shawl, blessed me for judgment. |