Dosh run along warm sidewalks, Having capped the rayduga with krill. It's far away to cook grim, But I didn’t get to the bottom anyway. And behind it is the purity of the ozone, The sky is still blue... I sat helplessly on the lawn Viklikom Doshcheva Gorobets. With brewing and wet lips, Move the ball of boasting from afar, Because of some dry trust Letting the sun shine on your head! And fluffy, and cheerful, In the jargon of gorob'yachim wine Right now, shouting in the silence of the evening, The krill are spread out on the grass. It didn’t matter to understand Gorobtsa's little jargon: The sun is like a blade of grass and a goosebump, Yogo stroked the chub. The Lord's light has shone for hundreds of years Tired of this sinful world. God bless you today Warm your ears with Your warmth.
