Memory of Megaportal "Salt"

The Lord - He humbles the proud:
You take off the eagle
And he will take, and the face
Maks you into a hole with a baughnoye.

Until recently, an alarm
I thundered in the magazine " Salt ".
Exposing all obscenities
In short, he was like a king.

Ah, how life lit,
How they rumbled violently
From Moscow to the Urals
Parties are glamorous.

But living in Russia is not easy,
And in the midst of fun
I collapsed like a bird from toast
At the very bottom of the gorge.

What beautiful faces
And gold feathers
Due to their shitty investments
We found themselves outside the door.

And I, following the oligarch
Painfully beaten Lebedev,
I want to ask the patriarch
Putin and Medvedev:

Tell me, comrades senior,
Show high mercy
How can I live on
After what happened.

I was a columnist
On the Megaportal "Salt",
And now I'm returning with a squeak
To the blogger vale.

The blogger has no roof
Everyone can offend him
Here so much is written
No one will see me.

Maybe we are in a grand scale
Offended someone in vain?
But why fuck so right away?
They would call, worked.

Would be scared, repent
Skipidar would wipe the skis
And in general, in order of workers
The shameless looked into our eyes.

We would promise to take into account
Constructive criticism,
And again they would have drove tin
For culture and for politics.

In the "salt" the guys are tough,
In our heads we have thoughts.
We are as the "New World" of Tvardovsky,
Type of Lenin's “Sparks”.

There used to be prevention -
Called the editor -in -chief in the Central Committee,
And here they cut funding,
And goodbye, native UZHK.

I will now have to wretched,
Pray to me uncircumcised
They let into a gay synagogue
Modern Russian poetry.

Or me, a veteran-salt,
To earn on a scale,
To the enemy embassy
We'll have to go jackal.

But no matter how life clicked,
This pain will not be forgotten
And the first I, without clinking,
I drink for the newspaper "Salt".