Wasted years

Wasted years of his hopeless,
among wild parties and discos
occluded cafes and pubs --
they were my home.


Day and night,
noon and sunset,
I stood there I ate and drank.
Trovih his soul with cigarette smoke and alcohol.


Morning as I wake,
cold beer in my hand I take a warm,
I drink a sip of her older
and so on, until the evening.


Life me so desperate
wasted every day
no sunrise or sunset,
I can not see through these wasted years.

On the corner

On the corner stands a lonely old man
and its good he counted legible;
worn suitcases and antiques for sale there
to be wandering passers-by.

Znoya one summer, there on the corner
old antiques sold countless,
among the noise and dust of the busy city
inexorably old man standing there.

And mine znoya of summer
winter frost all out
but the old merchant --
Bone smrazi it.

And this is his life miserable,
not bring him to grief corner
but love and kindness
to the golden hope
for new and new acquaintances.

Flattery

I love your gentle caresses,
I love your passionate breath,
I like talking softly
and quiet to the ear.

Your voice angelic,
incite passion in me,
and they throw me
in your tender embrace.


And when it ended up there ...
What bliss feel,
Having a passionate kiss me
sweet and caressing me.