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Don't mow (BG)
 
Don't mow me with a scythe,
Don't stick a nail into my palm;
Don't stun you me with infusion of cicuta.
You're my lucid mind,
I to you – black bone,
So run in honor of what we are drinking away
Our pure soul.
 
How much I was stealing, and all the same – the hands are empty;
How much I was drinking, and all the same – wine is as from a bush;
If you want, vote, if you want, go into the Buddhists,
But when you wake up in the morning – anyway around is emptiness.
 
Don't saw me with a saw, don't poke a log into the eye;
Here is enough of logs for a considerable house;
And the soul is – holy, she put on us,
So drink – don't fidget, we with you is two together.
 
And I would like, but all is like a trace on the sand;
If you want – sing in the opera, if you want, shave with an axe –
And all is equal Vladimir drives a herd to the river,
And for herd all is equal, they have eaten him with shit.
 
So don't mow me with a scythe,
Don't stick a nail into my palm;
Don't stun you me with infusion of cicuta.
You're my lucid mind,
I to you – black bone,
So run in honor of what we are drinking away
Our pure soul.


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