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,
You never will be now born,
In hell you will be only cry,
What alcohol you make to try?
And under wall, a very cold
And dirty lie you dead the bod.
In dark material you sleep,
Your spirit dead in awful deep.
God, save the president!
Эта моя версия гимна России, который, как мне считается, должен звучать на английском языке, на языке интернационала, дабы быть понятным всем народам мира.
(На музыку «God, save the queen!».)
God, save us president,
Padre of government.
Present him greatest health,
For the work most intense,
Victory in the wars,
Ruled on ground and on mars,
Righting us many years,
True and proud many slaves.
Right take us president,
He make huge us the land,
Stand us throne century,
Symbol of liberty.
Strong stand his throne,
(Далее музыка «Славься, славься...».)
And president us – all the people patron!
Your throne – is the best in the world of thrones,
You ruled of the us, of the all warriors!
Viva, viva, us president,
Viva you favorite us motherland,
And in every century us the strong
My great fatherland with the history long.
Viva, viva, us president,
Viva you favorite us motherland,
And in every century us the strong
My great fatherland with the history long.
The ode to beer.
All people love a walks to bar,
In mountains and on the mar
We love the beer in older time,
And will love children you and mine.
In German the best in the world engineers,
Because the every morning they drinking the beers
For all the world they very need,
So, only they can the machine complete.
Strong beer have hit to brain,
But life the sunny, not the rain.
All world with beer became to color,
But beer without life it’s horror.
This only test, the lucky test,
Who drink the beer, that is the best.
By when the beer is brown,
He have a lucky double.
The best a land it’s Bayern land,
All people then is very mad,
Because the best beer in the world from Munch-town.
With beer minds go to down.
Not Bayern beer the best in world,
The beer from Klin the more the strong,
The very honey beer from Klin,
For president, for folk, for him!
Anthem of the school number 737.
(Поется на мелодию «Песня Хорста Весселя»).
Standards in sky!
In beautiful colones
Students marching by
And angels now returns.
Colones long
Marching to ave and streets,
And scholars our strong,
Write on historic sheets.
To us with hope
Seen men millions,
And president, and Pope,
When marching now colons.
All enemies runs,
When march colons on town,
To sun we raise the hands,