Four walls Bashny.Net

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Pal Sanych kitchen smoke; half past two nights.
For the right wall silently crying young daughter:
rushed from her husband in
midnight in house dress, barefoot.
I thought it was - would be nice just to scold;
I would grunt about "nothing to quickly marry;
you can not do just what you want .. »
Yes, just I looked into her eyes - and there are a hundred years of solitude

. Come, my dear, sleep, do not rush to grow up.
Age - it's not the years, but the scars of the soul

. Wall - is that behind - contains
door. The one that a whole life - impenetrably deaf
. There - a corridor, a jacket, briefcase, trams,
Department of lectures, labs, check tests,
white bread with yogurt, gossip about the new Dean,
somewhere I forgot points as to live up to the salary,
Pigeons in the park, the crumbs in my pocket;
thoughts -
mats. Sur primitive everyday positivism;
a door leading into death through lack of life.

For the left wall - Flat hundred twenty-six,
that is located in the third parade.
There lives ... Varya Varya. Better - Barbara
. Better - even mentally it does not enter, do not enter, do not climb - in the hidden corners of their own desires,
so obvious when a fleeting meeting
opens a book of memoirs,
and there - it - he smiles timidly
. I would say yes next to a small daughter, conscience, his wife.
Nothing too late, there's nothing,
"You can not do what you want».
To her wall forever,
with it loneliness.

Pal Sanych in the kitchen of the flat smokes;
taking through a window in the recess of the fourth wall
your personal, private, designed guest, a patch of sky.
So take a bath, guests, medicine,
decision to live from Tuesday, dirt in the country,
contempt for the weak and unworthy of honor.
Pal Sanych, frankly, do not care what they say about him,
but I say it? .. he thinks the rector's wife, Varvara, even my daughter.
He is generally a long time the spit
in a world where the need is not the way you want;
he took poison sleepy.