We sit with him in a cafe and I say to him, “Listen, man,
I’m stuck in the board and I won’t get married anymore.
I’ve offered you so much: fuck, make friends,
It is not foolish to cook in this economic hell.
I am a poet, and I have no time to wash curtains at night.
Clean the bathroom, fuck the twists and smooth out the clothes.
It is just a kind of cleansing hell.
My inspiration will leave me forever.
“You’re writing shit,” my brother-in-law says to me.
You can sacrifice this shit for the sake of the family.
We give birth to two or three children.
Buy a chicken, a duck, a horse, two Vietnamese pigs.
I will put on your mouth to listen to your husband at all.
So that there is no time to suffer over the outgoing rhythm.
You will make me the most wicked cheeks,
And you will get used to the fact that you are a grandmother: the mistress and mother.
And when I turned his douleur, I wrapped it between my eyes,
Spit on the finger, large.
"You’t go into shit, you’t go into business".
I put him on a fucking plate.
After taking the wine, I went to the Botanical Park.
She also boiled her glass, so that she could drink it until morning.
and slept on the shop, under the whirl of the cuddled dogs,
In the morning there was rubbish from me.

c) Levandovich