But spring

And drink your tea with liquid milk
Gathering the word mankiruya exhausted,
and write freely and easily,
as it has never dreamed of dreaming until now ...
What folly, to carve his poetry,
have gone to the spring liquor mood,
from the skin of all the nonsense,
From a spicy note of spiritual insistence.
The mind wandering, trying to find the rhythm,
and findings, drinking his findings
and drunk again, drop by drop, from the inside,
pouring into the blood, as if vodka beer.
In the box, with winter washed
Tapping on broken branch elm ...
a snowy prison
itself is captivated in a cage.
She drank tea, t arm window,
Floating home madness first buds,
And poured into his cheap notebook.
A large number of new lines are naive