Читать книгу Five brilliant artifacts of a mysterious programmer онлайн

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We are like a detached generation, would,

But let’s just say we wanted to be like,

Our grandfathers and fathers, passed all the stages, a sign,

Courage, and were tomboys in the streets,

Grew up not in Moscow, but also here there are, patsy on behah,

What set the tone for the rest of bosota, nah,

You can’t bury these years, crooked and in bots,

Not from Guchi, we were hanging around, but in ordinary gray cross-country shoes,

Knead the lowdown with bolted feet,

If you ask if you have any regrets about the past years,

I will answer that no, it would be worse for us in the dungeons,

And if you must live, you must have pepper in your veins,

And to die, so without bitterness, on hard knees.

God is, he is not in Buddhism simply,

Buddhism is, he is not in God simply,

We are not the first Civilization in Kosma,

Samsara and Nirvana were always on Edge.

The Planet circles around the Sun,

A Disk of Gold glorifies Names,

We live, suffer, die and go to Heaven,

We are children of the Planets, dying in Nirvana.