Exhortation

Written on the day of the death of Blok

My Rus', my life, is we toil together?

My lovely brothers are Belarusian!
The air smells in the air.
How many years have you endured tired -
Apparently, you can torture you.

You are going to your goblin
The leader of your deep layers,
Drive from Vitebsk, Minsk and Gomel -
And put, suppose, in Rostov.

Dead business. Do not try.
I have grown, I believe, in thirty years.
You will have to make all this,
But there are no attractive outputs:

Or in the arms of our Kremlin,
That, finally Orogovev,
Will receive - but this is unacceptable for you -
Or west, in the Seal of the IMF.

No matter how much heavenly heavenly heshes us,
A cold technique looms everywhere.
Is it so, otherwise - addiction everywhere,
And independence only with you -

Monster with a bummer, mischievous, proven,
His own, familiar, like the smell of a bug,
Merin made your Fatherland -
Sluggish, humble, but pulls for now.

They hold it-whether food, is the army ...
The freemen teases, but more - threatens.
The main word, in my opinion, is “Self”.
Self. Savei. Like your parasite.

He is familiar, and then what else?
For thirty years it was whistled with him.
Old, evil, manual monster:
Together scorched, we will die together.

As if you will burrow the smelly pillow,
In the old sheet, native linen:
It smells of a goat, armpit, with one
But you can’t do anything - your own.

My Rus', my life, is we toil together?
Together. The substance has become one.
Looking through the eyes of the elderly Zaitsa
Near the hunter the wolf is like a native.

He is the embodiment of the leader and the tender
Low sky and close bottom,
He is like life. Fatal, familiar,
Also terrible, also alone.

If you look at - so wrong!
Eternal frozen, eternal mess,
Eternal nonsense ... but take her -
Somehow wrong. Better so.

We also walked with white ribbons,
Like a hainke in a terrible movie, -
Women with magnificent faces,
Children with burning eyes ... but -

We must humble yourself with the highest orders!
So when looking at your garden
It would be glorious, since it would not work out either.
Let him gain sixty.

If you run away like Anna Karenina, -
You are driving a wedge between us,
We will only stay with Korea.
Although deservedly - bitterly, damn it.

Believe your own - genuine truth,
Flat, naked, like dry stubble.
(It’s scary to think: am I sincerely?
Apparently sincerely. Ugh on me.)

So admit: do not try.
A terrible revenge is drawn everywhere.
If you lived really starving ...
But not starving? Is there something?