From broken love, crystal veins freeze on the window.
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You look like spring at war, like Shakespeare's death from treason.
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On dogs you fly to Moscow, on iron wolves to Gorbushka.
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There are a hundred rings in my soul, two tattoos, and a girlfriend's leather jacket as a keepsake.
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Hello, night-Lyudmila, where you were carried, where trouble wandered,
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I would have killed you. |
Your mother, Lyudmila, I fed you, I raised you, where were you?!
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At dawn, the wind extinguishes speeches, young women's golden braids, barefoot.
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At dawn, happiness will throw off her dress, painted fennies at recess.
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Combining Lolita with Jeanne d'Arc, you sweep away the proposed dinner.
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The park is fighting on the benches, but you don't need the old ensign.
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You dream of eating the main role, at worst, poor Lisa.
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For you - or buzz, or pain, and walk all night on the ledges.
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Hello, night-Lyudmila, where you were carried, where trouble wandered,
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I would have killed you. |
Your mother, Lyudmila, I fed you, I raised you, where were you?!
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At dawn, the evening extinguishes speeches, young women's golden braids, barefoot.
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At dawn, happiness will throw off her dress, painted fennies at recess.
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It's boring at home, like in an old man's dream, although dad hasn't been drunk for a week.
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Composing a letter, like Tatyana, you are in the entrance on a dirty wall.
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And in your dreams, in order to get a star, you make an appointment on the roof.
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There are five rings on his chest, two tattoos... all of a sudden he writes at least a word too.
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Hello, night-Lyudmila, where you were carried, where trouble wandered,
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I would have killed you. |
Your mother, Lyudmila, I fed you, I raised you, where were you?! |