Vyacheslav Suhnev. (№ 292071)

To return, to yield, lilac snow cover,
poochie, to talk, to heat the oven in the morning
and a cooler grey, like a fortress, cut off
good light that does not believe good.
But nowhere to go from vulgar longing blame.
Longing - not Princess, not rod drown on the river.
One, they say, there is a folk remedy...
Yes, a lot l who healed it of boredom?