Gulliver In Slavage - Рыбаченко Олег Павлович - Страница 7

  Drive out of my veins, you are the instinct of a thief!

  . CHAPTER #2

  Gulliver sang so interestingly. This boy is not destined to become an adult. But who showed that it"s not bad to be a child. Even if your bare feet step on sharp pebbles, it doesn"t hurt you, but rather even tickles.

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  The girl giggled and chirped:

  - And you are good, and a very cool boy! How good it must be to be a child!

  Gulliver sang with a joyful smile:

  Tell

  your dreams,

  Share your dreams with me...

  Be yourself

  And open

  In childhood, the door - to memories ...

  Want

  I will take you to the gardens

  Where cherry blossoms

  And your words will not be superfluous there,

  You see -

  We have grown up

  And forgot the places where

  The willows are stroking us with their braids...

  Do you remember - you wanted to go to space?

  And everyone wished to become captains ...

  All this is in us -

  early summer, parks,

  Balls, cotton candy -

  Brother's birthday...

  Happiness yard neighbor Anton -

  All day at the lake, at nine - at home ...

  Who stole my time?

  And around - everything turned gray suddenly ...

  Where did the breeze go

  Sea sand,

  Veranda with grapes and that

  Kiss with a hail of emotions -

  I need to return!

  I want to stay

  Where there are no tears

  And where did we laugh -

  Under a flurry of summer thunderstorms...

  Tell

  your dreams,

  Share your dreams with me...

  Be yourself

  And open

  In childhood, the door - to memories ...

  I often dream of silence! ..

  She is one

  Wandering in the yards

  From the memory of the lost!

  And then it seems

  What's the matter even

  Not in five-story buildings unpainted!

  We are older...

  Above on the roof fathoms

  Those castles of dreams -

  Their towers...

  So unpleasant closer

  So cold with us...

  And dreams

  Stop being colored

  And they smell like steel!

  I wish I knew how to leave them...

  Where

  To sit out our eyelids?

  Where are these Hermitages ?..

  And where is friend Misha?

  And who is now

  Talk about Tsoi

  And his thaw?

  Balls of gossip grandmothers

  With string bags

  The immortal "Maybe" is ours,

  Kostya's shirt is non-replaceable,

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  From Turkey

  ponytail tangled with jokes,