The Lord is cold-blooded, nothing will touch him -
blasphemy with praise, he will close an unbreakable ring.
because the world before him is like an aged baby
with a naive wrinkled, spotted pigment, face.
the baby-old man is unscrupulous, puffed up and red,
I'm ready to cry, I'm going to get my clothes dirty in the mud ...
blah with praise - a ring made from children's plastic -
God tosses the world: on, baby, do not cry, bite.
and the world is gleefully gnawing, smiling toothlessly -
then he falls asleep, blowing bubbles in his sleep,
not knowing that, even though said a few ... rude,
he too is a toy.
Well, peace, rest.
before dawn.
