Valdai

And we still ask you for your wake

Based on performances in the Valdai club

Do we look bad? I will not hide
I am gold your company
I will say with the habits of the cops
And thieves' directness:
Not that we reborn
In covid new times,
Not that they were sharply ashamed -
We are not a saint and not a monk
Not that we have been overwhelmed -
There will be suckers, nah, -
But just caught a cold again
We are at your funeral.

Habitually in a chatter bunker,
We rule the left foot,
And the bell, the gift of Valdai,
The rings are sad under the arc.

With the usual croaking raven
Under the bell groans copper
We are so stubbornly burying you
That you are sinful not to die.

We buried you in the twenties
In the thirties, the flames of the embraced,
In the sixties demoniacs,
Under Gorbachevsky lawlessness,
Then at the Yeltsin embezzlement,
Then at the Putin castrates -
How a pound was sitting with all the kings.

You have experienced five depression
And small shocks - endlessly,
You have lost a hundred professions -
From the potter to the seller,
You composed the abyss of books,
The milions were chewed up,
The planet was subordinated to their own
And bred like a worm - -
And we only buried you!
And finally caught up.

A sullen look at you throwing
We stuck the shores
And we are waiting for the inhabitants of China,
So that the corpse of the enemy appeared.

As long as without reducing the ardor,
We cursed you everywhere
A lot of everyone swam
By the muddy novice water.

The gold time swam,
Meria swam, all and a wax,
Three bloody systems swam,
Not changing us at all,
Leaders of Rus', Russia, Rashi
Sailed into a common vent,
And even our future
Sailed - or swam, -
And we, throwing outsiders
Words of enmity with an unstable mouth,
Bury you with disgust
And we catch a cold.

Hope - breakfast, anger - dinner,
Lunch - yesterday's sins.
Spit that our voice is cold,
To this we spit, Apchi.
The reserve is made with us.
Unstense Patriot, -
Who is always ill is immortal,
Since he does not live.
Knuts do not require repair
Our backs are not offended,
Our pigs are fearless,
We tireless the Tambov wolf, -
And we are on your wake
We also ask you in credit.