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Rambler's Top100



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GAVNOTRON TEBE NOS TRYOT, A TY DUMAESH' CHTO?

KTO V GAVNE TONET I NE UKORACHIVAETSYA? (ZA PLAT'E BRAT' PRIXODITSYA, NO UKORATIT' EE ZHIZN' PRIDYOTSYA) TO V GODFATHER'E NE SVAD'BA

VSYO ONI CHAVKAYUT, VSYO ONI DRYAN′ EBUT
RAZUBIT′ NE MOGU, RAZUBEDIT′ -- MOGU
OL′GA, PRIDI KO MNE SHVEJKOJ VOSKRESNOYU
ILI ZHE POL′ZOYU, CHTO V VOSKRESENIE.
YA ZH TEBYA POL′ZUYU, TY ZHE MENYA -- NEMA
ROSLAYA, STOJKAYA, -- VED′ TOL′KO I VSEGO
PRIXODI MAXOM, VOZ′MI MENYA GRAVIEM
ILI BULYZHNIKOM, KAK TEBE HOCHETSYA



K ZHENSCHINE KAK K SUDARYNE -- CHEGO EHTO STOIT (TY MNE VAZHNEJ, SOHRANIT' GOLOVU!) EGO GOLOVU POZHRAT' DOLZHEN YA? (TY PROSTO OBYAZANA LYUBIT' SVOYU POPU BOL'SHE) THE OPPOSITE WORDS ARE, ZEMNOVODNAYA I OBTUSE

(THAT'S WHAT'S UP, NIGGER) KAKIE VAZHNEJ ZNAKI, CHTOBY GUSTOE SOXRANIT' (NE TOL'KO ZHE GRUDI; GRUDI HUZHE) XUDSHAYA ZHENSCHINA NA SVETE -- EHTO SOPYASCHAYA TYOTYA NADYA https://angrysampoetry.wordpress.com/2012/05/12/the-man-on-the-dump-wallace-stevens-1942/amp/ SHELLEAN METAPHORE A LUCHSHIJ FIL'M -- SOPRANOES

ZNAK DIEZA XUZHE SPRUTA --
DOLZHEN YA EGO LYUBIT'?
VSE PROSTOE, POCHEMU-TO,
NE DAYOT OSUCHESTVIT'
NICHEGO KROME ISTORIY
I TEORIY OBLUCHKA
A SKAZAT' IM I AM SORRY
MOZHET TOL'KO T. CH. K.

KONTRADIKCIYA SIH SUDEB
STOIT PERPETRATORAM-
SUDARYAM IH GOLOV, GRUDIY,
POSVYASCHENIJ VSEM SMERTYAM,
GOLODRANTSEV OTVERZHDEN'E,
OTVERZHENIE OTCOV,
ZEMNOGOLOVOKRUZHEN'E
CHTOBY SOXRANIT' YAJCOV...

SMES' KACITA S ANTRACITOM --
I CHERNOBYL'SKAYA BYL'
STOIT VSEM EE KOPYTAM
TOL'KO KASKU I KOVYL' --
VSYA MNE LASKA ZA VSE LETA
ZAZVONIT' I PROGVOZDET',
NE PRIZNAT' VO MNE POEHTA
TOL'KO IBO NE SPEL ET'...

" " " " SORRY ELOPE


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monopoly --
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, , .
Lebanons,
-- .

To Gnedich
(A.S. Pushkin)

With Homer you conversed alone for days and nights;
* Our waiting hours were passing slowly.
And shining you came down from the mysterious heights
* And brought to us your tables holy.
There, in the wilderness, beneath a tent you found
* Us dancing wild in empty gaiety,
Descanting savage songs depravedly around
* The newly hand-created deity.
We grew confused, we shunned your lavish majesty;
* Then, seized by wrath and desolation
Did you, good prophet, curse your mindless family
* And smash your tables in frustration?
No, you did not curse us. From heights, you disappear
* Into the shade of straitened valleys.
You love the heavens crash, but also long to hear
* Bees humming over red azaleas
Such is the honest bard: with passion he laments
* At solemn games of Melpomena,
And smiles upon the crowds plebeian merriments
* And liberties of coarse arena;
Now Rome is calling him, now the majestic Troy,
* Now elder Ossians craggy gravels,
And in the meantime he will hear with childish joy
* Of Tsar Saltans heroic travels.




: 10
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: Jun 16, 2018





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