Текст песни Святослав Свидригайлов сатана печет блины - mkvsk

I was having a dream
no reason weighty
about walking along Nevsky
Mayakovsky.

Short,
without wax,
hairstyles.

in bearable
their looks, but rather
kind of low-key:

not rags, but
and the Oscar
red slippery
Carpet style -

gloss there
Pobol than
Mayakovsky:

Yes,
neat.
but without the frills, ladies
itinerant alluring
spark

golden clip
on a tie,
that the eyes of a hunting
See therefore,
or quickly

machine, ostrich
speed earnestly
endows the ladies, wolves,
in terms of goals
rapid disappearance.
and further loss of individuals.

struck by the differences
social,
Poet stood for a moment
in the midst of the crowd.

distant view
open trade
Crystal Shield centers,
through which only
money flying dagger.

there is no money in the pocket postranstve flat.
and dagger - suddenly appeared.
it is in the oil entered the Mayakovsky
by his own hand.

evaporated great body.
I woke up, leaving a dream.
washing the face, he drank wine. but his countenance
I peeped through for a long time around.