Wander to the poor ... Bashny.Net

< Felix Komarov



Wander the poor with begging bowls, smiling ringing coin, say, the one who looks for - shall find, but the rest is still there. This cup, full of holes as a sieve and throw, only small metal ... our kingdom of God on the right, who dared - and he sought. On the handouts, do not build faith, but with affection I look in your eyes ... ah, otsypte I pity measure, I'm good, I'll be impossible, I skromnyaga, I respect you and ready your self to offer ... and at night you bite and I want you home into the throat burn. I hate myself to cry for alms, he should ask, and in the basement, scratching faces, because otherwise live. I pray that this likam faded, I ask, unconditional love ... and streaks like Rorschach ghosts are creating dream ships. In them I'm floating proud captain, opened the unknown region ...
I rise in the stinking fog under the shrill barking of a dog. And I go, squeezing the shoulders of the chill, collect his bribe bitter ... and ask, well post my God. And then I'll be gone forever.