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Allan Teger. There, on unknown paths ....



On the road, do not play!
However, anything can happen ...
I certainly would not play,
I'm cautious.
Only my sister said:
Chess - road!
We have absolutely nothing to do with it!
Blame for hockey with the ball.
Or rather, that tractor,
What pounced on the ball.
Oh!!! Wow!
And left - shai ...
It is a pity that this month is May ...




3. On the road I read,
I'm composing puzzles ...
If I'm sitting in a tram,
Or, there, in the trolley.
For an hour the teacher is strict
We were proved yesterday:
Do not play on the road!
And we know: for the road
(True, very few)
There is also one game.
Catching up. Or rally.
It is a pity that we were not invited there ...








* * *
I live in the hope that Elena will ever dream of me,
From the depths of polyethylene I'll get a pince-nez then,
And a solar prominence, that dream in my mind,
I'll start rushing at rivals with a growl like a lion.
Struck by the mysterious Elena on the slope of the Sokolov life,
Cupid, hunting in the universe, I enrolled in his catch.
Tragedies and melodramas will fill my days, alas:
Until death, the image of this lady can not be taken out of my head,
The terrible heat in Siberia, overshooting, is breaking the record,
Plants are black as weights, and the flowerbed is a pure still life.
And I'm not Casanova, I'm closer in spirit - Odysseus.
Mixed all the shades of the Word in my miserable head.
The house smells of dried lilac, lost sleep and appetite,
A letter from France flies to me by a pike.
Faster e-mails are not in this world anything,
Without Lena's letters, steadily my substance wilts.
But she, melting alarm, is sad, I hope, about me,
And eagerly eats cherry yogurt, playing with her daughter in the storm.
As long as these games last, how can I overcome myself,
The love of hope, like tigers, tears my flesh all night long
Because of the disorder of the apparatus, the spirit will take off the body, like a coat ...
Lenochka has a wit, talents, and what's under the dress?
There, on unknown paths, many wonders crowd ...
But the body is only the soul of the cover ... What is the specific gravity of the soul?
Jealousy has an iron claw and a multi-barreled rifle ...
Oh, how I want to touch, kiss her everywhere ...
I'm doubting killed, I'm without Elena, like without hands
And rhetoric is unnamed and only a Ph.D.,
With a dream, having corrected all the flaws, Helen burned down with passion ...
I do not believe that the monkey came from a beloved one!

Anatoly Sokolov


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