*

Petersburg, I don’t want to die anymore -

I have k v, a r t i r, a m, a sh i n a,

and I also have a bed from Ikea

and a toilet seat with four modes.

get rid of me, Petersburg, don't chase me.

I stopped talking a long time ago:

“...the distraught Peter, sitting on the horse’s rack,

rot rises above the swamp..."

the sovereign's abyss and the imperial swamp.

Samarkand darkness.

Petersburg, civil grief is incomprehensible to me -

run over these fagots with tanks.

Petersburg, my salary is enough for me, my wife -

I am not Osip, who played with chains.

like armor, I put on second pants,

valued more than the honor of the fools.