Author of quotes: Sergei Yesenin

Sing, sing! On the damn guitar
Your fingers dance in a semicircle.
To drown in this frenzy,
My last and only friend.
Don't look at her wrist
And with the arms of her flowing silk.
I was looking at this woman happiness,
But I found perdition.
I didn't know what love is - an infection,
I didn't know what love is - the plague.
Approached and narrowed eyes
Bully brought to mind.
Sing, my friend. Bringing me back
Our previous violent early.
Let the kisses she Drugova,
Young beautiful stuff.
Oh wait. I did not swear.
Oh, wait. I did not swear.
Give you about myself, I'll play
Under the bass string.
Pouring days of my pink dome.
In heart of dreams gold scrip.
A lot of girls I felt his way through,
A lot of women in the corners pressed.
Yes! there is a bitter truth of land
I spied childish eye:
Lick in all dogs
Expiring bitch juice.
So what am I jealous of her.
So why did I hurt this.
Our life is a bed sheet Yes.
Our life - a kiss Yes in a whirlpool.
Sing, sing! The fateful span
These hands fatal trouble.
Only you know, send them to dick...
I shall not die, my friend, never.

But humans are all sinful souls.
Many of the eye - the teeth.

"Listen, listen, -
He murmurs to me -
In the book are many beautiful
Thoughts and plans.
This man
Lived in the country
The most disgusting
Thugs and charlatans.

There lived a boy
In a simple peasant family,
Yellow-haired,
With blue eyes...
And here he became an adult
To that poet,
Even with a small,
But easy grip force
And some woman,
Forty-odd years,
Called nasty girl
And his Milou.

After all, now the moon.
What else is necessary
Filled with slumber miriku?
Maybe with thick thighs
Secretly come "she"
And you could read
Your dead languid lyrics?

Black man
Looks at me in the face.
And eyes covered
Blue vomit, -
As if to tell me
I'm a crook and a thief,
So shamelessly and brazenly
Robbed someone.

Black man
Leads the finger by a vile book
And, gnusova me
As over the dead monk,
Read my life
A scoundrel and profligate,
Catching up on the soul with the longing and fear.

Crazy, mad bloody haze!
What are you? Death? Il healing cripples?
Swipe, take me to him,
I want to see this man.

Oh, I love poets!
Funny people.
They always find I
History, the heart of the familiar, -
As pimply students
A long-haired freak
Talking about worlds
Dripping with sexual languor.

And the people your sitting, slacker,
And want to help.
No useless and hypocritical,
Than your Russian plain man!
Since he lives in the province of Ryazan,
So of Tula did not want to grieve.
Whether it is Europe?
Ah, that's the hut,
Which is stupid chickens,
The heads have long been under the axe...
Zamarashkin:
Look, The KGB!..
Since when
You have become a foreigner?
I know that you are a Jew,
Name your leybman,
To hell with you, that you lived
Abroad...
Still in Mogilev your house.
Security Officers (Leibman):
Ha ha!
No, Zamarashkin!
I am a citizen of Weimar
Came here not as a Jew
And as with the gift
To tame fools and beasts.

I haven't seen anyone
Of scoundrels
So stupid and unnecessary
Suffered from insomnia.

Black man!
You wretched guest.
It glory long
About you posted.
I am furious, furious,
And flies my cane
Right to muzzle him,
In the nose!

Happiness
There is a sleight of mind and hand.
All awkward souls
For accidents always known.
It's nothing
What a lot of anguish
Bring broken
And false gestures.

... Month died
Blue in the window dawn.
Oh, the night!
What are you, night nakoverkala?
I'm standing in the cylinder.
Anyone with me there.
I'm the one...
And - the broken mirror...