Previously, we watered the lawn of the watering can,
in the fall of the mosquito trehlineyki,
bug planted, Turks, On stake.
And the beetle is not humming, mosquito cried.
Now we have watered, and more rarely - rain.
Who wants to puts us in the ribs a tusk.
As to the beetle and its buzzing,
go everywhere with machine intelligence to follow.
It is seen, time is running out, but not in hours, and right.
And ahead, they say, no forest, but pit.
And tell, who came out,
that the weather there is better, when we are evil.
Remember modest museum, where not edited vidali
a realist masterpiece, "Do not give '?
Whether it was a museum? Why not call the museum
the, what we are now staring?
leave, whether, to Spain, where the Spaniards
addicted to love boxing and dancing,
when they set foot, like a rose in a vase,
and when they kill the bull, at once.
but they say, the propeller is stopped.
That - especially naked - we are heavier, than marble:
so many years repelled by the panel
heel, which eventually turned to stone.
It is better, it is seen, stay. lie down, bed in the hay,
to swim by candlelight in a warm, soup, basin,
whose drop still keeps the eyelash,
I knew, where to find us, deciding dream.
apparently, low cloud pilot can indeed confuse:
as if there were someone deletes something,
which is comparable in strength
light to, that were in the shower.