Пегас, муза и лирический герой

Pegasus, Muse and lyrical hero

On the sidelines of the cultural process
Voluntarily breathe and be seen far
I sit in the guise of a wild Circassian ,
Uncork saber beer .
And the process of cultural flows past ,
And there's something sweetly sing .
Over the process - two adorable cherub .
So beautiful , just take envious .

There poets thoroughbred Pegasus
There Psyche and Euterpe , and Cupid ,
With them ladies in crinolines and atlases
There's high - culture from kultyur .
How I envy twitch nervously ,
And , holding their noses with handkerchiefs , said :
"Yuck , myuzhik , enfant terrible, bad smells ,
With this snout reaches into our Kalashny number .
A has played us some , myuzhik ,
Aine Kleine nahtmyuzik .
Can not you ? Oh, you bast ,
Get out of here this instant ! "

My Pegasus savvy crooked,
His mane of tow
And plucked wings
Short tail , like a gun.
Like to have fun , jump - leavens ,
Meet a horse - otpegasit ,
He jackals in the trash ,
But actually he is an esthete.

That's the same fruit , neither horse nor bird,
All would laugh him sneer .
Other people Pegasus -
Pleasure to look at.
People ahalketintsy ,
Trotters Kabardians .
Ladies see us with Pegasus
Begin again tryndet :
"Yuck , myuzhik " - once in a creek .
Immediately to the cry of " Fu myuzhik !
Phi myuzhik ! Myuzhik Oh ! "
Immediately to the cry of " Fu myuzhik ! "

My Muse - the Soviet Union ,
Traded before beer on tap,
Calls me " my lousy Caruso "
And winks , shoulders bared .
Drinks , scandals , wears lace dress.
" What a life - screaming - do not give time off !
I go to Mitiaeva there pay more . "
Nothing scary, she was not picked up.

My lyrical hero - he was not lyrical ,
He is cynical , my lyrical hero ,
He is flawed , not tamed , ironic,
I have something very good , and it something evil .
I'm a nice , quiet, nice, inconspicuous ,
And it is noisy, it reveler and insolent ,
And all the time conceals abstsentnoy vocabulary ,
Words I had never heard of such and such .

Well, since I'm not a classic,
Sam raised himself Parnasik ,
A short, six-foot ,
And for me , it is just right,
Neat, man-made ,
With wooden restroom
Table , bench, three birch trees -
My personal Parnassus.

Under the table is a guitar
And empty glass bottles ,
Cracked on the bench
Tomic Freidkin disclosed .
And live in a communal :
Muse as dependents ,
Yes my tugudumsky Pegasus ,
Yes, my hero - a parasite.
Parasite , the parasite
Oh , the hero - parasite!
Oh, my hero parasite ,
Oh , the parasite ...

A far Parnassus towering ridges
There avalanches metaphors noise,
Stanza strictly float succession ,
A sonorous rhymes over them soar .
And sitting there and looking for a rhyme for the word " bottom "
Going to " buddy " write
These three I yell : " Write - goats ! "
Force under their flute dance.

Here we have a wretched shelter piita ,
These three bullet write in the sand
With noise , swearing : " And your lady bits ! "
Atmosphere as a brothel in the port .
The Lord, and if we do not sbryatsat the lyre
World something like " Novice" tell ?
A Pegasus yells : What , FIG , Novice !
Can not you see I bought on crimps ace.

I would sing sweetly , tenderly
" La-la " - By type Baskov
And not for the mother ,
And so like a cherub ,
And that without policy
To critics to tears :
" What light of reason !
And we'll spread rot . "

Mess in my hotel
Cognac in my inkwell,
Horse Rides , Muse painted,
Hero went into the bout .
What the hell , intimates ,
Such a pancake, and songs -
Well, what did you write worthwhile
With such shantrapa .
Shantrapa , oh,
With such shantrapa ,
Shantrapa , shantrapa ,
Shantrapa ...

Fresh breeze blowing ... And to be honest ,
This is disgusting to me liking yourself :
Obmaknesh language in the inkwell - charming!
No, guys , we have to change to anything.
So I will be sunning his bottom
And in the process of cultural stones throw .
Well, who are there wrinkles her nose