italian hat and says hello to borhis, because here, of course, behind borhis stands his character overoes now is the time of fire, don’t let me in, i’m like a rusty ascetic, 3,000 years old, who hasn’t written poetry, but that invisible one is waiting, carefully, like a cat, touching the milk. oh, midnight double, he clung to the lamp, according to my strictures, my log, a short-lived beast walks, i keep it in the pit, this sacrifice to the fire, until the door was closed, the demons are burning all around, they didn’t tell you, but they tell the truth, and don't change ours back, oh my friends, oh my enemies, how beautiful it is to cut a residential pen, vespers the silver, the manuscripts don’t burn, they still burn, you should have seen. this act, the manuscripts say, they didn’t tell you, but they really say it, and don’t take a step back, oh my friends, oh my enemies, how beautifully they burn, the manuscripts burn. and my beloved ones, they burn so gloriously, like a ripe pomegranate, oh, my friends, oh my enemies, how beautifully they burn, rukapiga. you are paramonina, yes, it’s m