[клюквенное варенье]

Ничего не могу с собой поделать. Иду на дно.
Как же он читает эти строки, господи.
Я хочу изнасиловать чувака с таким голосом.
Пожалуйста, разрешите.

И само стихотворение: ожогом горит.
Охренительно.

Видео с начиткой

György Petri — Night Song of the Personal Shadow

The rain is pissing down,
you scum.
And you, you are asleep
in your nice warm room --
that or stuffing the bird.
Me? Till six in the morning
I rot in the slackening rain.
I must wait for my relief, I've got to wait
till you crawl out of your hole,
get up from beside your old woman.
So the dope can be passed on
as to where you've flown.
You are flying, spreading your wings.
Don't you get into my hands --
I'll pluck you while you're in flight.
This sodding rain
is something I won't forget,
my raincoat swelling
double its normal weight
and the soles of my shoes.
While you
were arsing around
in the warm room.

The time will come
when I feed you to fish in the Danube.