Намывание островов (СИ) - Нигматулин Марат "Московский школьник" - Страница 56

I’am Russian pilot to become,

And on this beautiful the cost

I’am pilot-work to started learn.

And in my last in life the day,

I’am to the square on early go,

And major my to me the say:

«You must to die, what do you know?».

And happy I to die the ran,

I crush my life the bore and cozy,

I stay to my airplane,

And turn on I’am my motor noisy.

And when I go to blue the sky,

To deep brave world with head the snow,

I think about mother my,

And poor hearth her I’am know.

In minute last to ground the line

I saw to lover land – Crimea,

And seems i Russia all the mine,

And fly I’am to the war area.

All Russia luckily to sleep,

I must americans the kill,

And at the enemy big ship

I attack in this day to will.

My airplane to ship this fall,

And run americans us ants,

And in this minute yankee all

To death without grave with plants.

Run airplane trough noise and dark,

And not I’am scary there attack,

And fall my plane on cap the ark,

And nothing go I home to back.

When hurts my hearts, and hands, and leg,

In mind excitement I seems,

On Washington the Russian flag,

And made in really I’am this dreams.

The Alcohol.

Другое мое стихотворение на английском, пропитанное философией и морализаторством насквозь, если оно из последнего не состоит, конечно.

You very love from France the wine,

When stay you on the life of line

You can’t the wine red drinking not,

Cold, with the ice, or very hot.

In mount hit you life of way,

You can’t the thinking in this day.

The wine you can to only drink,

In nowadays you can’t to think.

The wine you brain at now killed,

As at the animal you wild.

Your ugly bod and face of slave,

You can’t in future be the brave,

You only slave of snake the green,

Who in the dark you now seen.

And go to you fantastic squirrel

In scary run you under table.

Become you to the very sick,

And Diablo you in codex tick.

A very ugly your sin,

And you the sinner now been,

In life you started winter snow,

On your head stand the blow,

And spirit you go to the hell,

In hell you only will be burn,