Brandy in the decanter - amber color,
what, generally, Lithuania symptomatic.
Cognac transforms you into a rebel.
What is not practical. Yes, but romantic.
He cuts off much of the armature
around, that still and static.
End of season. Tables upside.
jubilant proteins, cones to saturate.
Snoring in the cupboard Russian agronomist,
svykshayasya how to thaw Knight.
fountain gurgles, and somewhere outside
miluyutsya Jurate and Kastytis.
Empty beach seagulls live.
Dry in the sun colorful booths.
Behind the dunes transistors roar
cough and Courland fireplaces.
Chestnuts in puddles shriveled float
almost like a galvanic mines.
Why all the metropolis deaf,
then in a dozen provinces have adopted.
Sings a verse the apostle rachego
in his obscure journal.
And the cast of the original sin
his image replicates the channel.
country, era - spit and grind!
At wavelengths dancing boundary cutter.
When the clock shows "three",
heard, even swim for landing stage,
church bells. And inside
Son looks on flour Virgin.
And if you live the life, which way
actual costs, where the flanks,
shamelessly stripped to the bone,
starts a conversation about Boomerang,
the world's best places to find
autumn, all thrown Palanga.
neither Russian, any Jews. through all
great beach biennial archaeologist,
retired to its own hubris,
bredene, holding the porcelain shard.
And if your heart would break here,
the Lithuanian writing its obituary
surpasses stickers box,
where bryakayut remaining matches.
And the sun, like a Bun,
will go, surprisingly titmouse
a moment of cumulus clouds
for mourning, maybe, habitually.
The Sea will rokotat, starches
impersonal - as happens with artists.
Palanga is, coughing, snuffling,
listen to the wind, that outrageous,
and silently pass through itself