рrima matter[primordial (лат.)]

Alien bloods flavor
its, stunned poet,
The window at the Sofia Embankment,
Is not this the whole secret?

The window at the Sofia Embankment,
But only on the river booze,
Your blood corpuscles,
biting, they go beyond the River,
Like rats to drink.

Excitement gives slip of the tongue.
mention the word: River,
I opened the window you will not,
I opened a trap,

By the river slipped mouse muzzle
With the mouth not one Pasyuk.
How greedy my krovinok
In the blood clouds, and slops, and everyday
Creep into these pores home, stray,
song edibles, victuals secrets thawed sniff!
And when I dance with pain
Or drink to your health,
All the same: rampant whistle underground,
Whistle Mokrousov blood in the blood.

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Boris Pasternak
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