russian, wonderful, they will be very tasty with bones, and the river flows, my sunny grandfather, was balagury day, won the war and returned home with orders, let’s sit with my father and sing quietly , about the canoe that walks through the fields, i was a son, i will become a father, my grandfather’s face, and the river flows, rolls pebbles along the bottom, and bakes them for us, grandma bakes pancakes for us , they, russians, will be sad, they will be very skeletal delicious, and the river flows, new turn, my blood flows in my vein, and my father’s river flows, and the river flows. and the river flows, millions of constellations break space into... sub-spaces in your place of an eternal quest along the gray walls, let your heart go up to find out. there is more than once, the sky is always for us, 50 light even in the dark, because the heart is sharper than a thousand eyes, the stars on your head can be reached with your hand if you walk, if you live, if you know how to remain yourself. in a world of broken lines, rivers often overflow their banks, on your parallel there is another storm,