Jacob Genn
Than, madly, to hang out,
instilling fear in sailors,
it is better to pick at the soil,
disturbing the worms.
Away from the dock of stagnation!
Cutting off the ends of worries,
On a long voyage of binge,
An off-course shvertbot.
Type of "flying Dutchman"
Without signal lights
Blindly forced to stagger
On the waves of alcoholic seas.
The venom of distances,
The wind of sweet hops,
At the end of empty wanderings
Imminent stranding.
If his evil one
A wave will wash up to the shore,
He knows how to anchor rusty
Leave a stranger in the harbor.
Well, and after returning,
Having worked up for the future,
In tow for treatment
Forced into the dock.
There they will put on the raid again,
At least for a whole year,
By re - encrypting
Inventory number in the code.
Obeying the laws of sushi,
It won't be the first time,
Tempting puddles
He bypasses it.
Until suddenly
It won 't leave the mooring
In a simple tomorrow
The restless shvertbot.
