Sadalsky's life is like holding a horse by the bridle. The wind is blowing from the south and the moon has risen. "Yes! Now it's decided. No refund"

http://www.stihi-xix-xx-vekov.ru/epi1.html But maybe not everyone should read these poems.

The wind blows from the south
And the moon rose
What are you doing, whore?
Didn't come at night?

You didn't come at night
Didn't show up during the day.
Do you think we're jerking off?
No! We eat others!

Yesenin S. A. - “Don’t strain, dear, and don’t gasp”

Don’t grieve, dear, and don’t gasp,
Hold life like a horse by the bridle,
Tell everyone and everyone to go to hell
So that they don't send you to pussy!

Pushkin A. S.
“I can’t think of another joke”

And I can’t think of another joke,
As soon as you send Tolstoy to hell.

Pushkin A. S. - “Epitaph”

O vain glory! Oh decay, a terrible look -
Pushkin’s hard dick lies here for the first time.

Pushkin A. S. - “Once a violinist came to the castrato”

Once a violinist came to the castrato,
He was a poor man, and he was a rich man.
“Look,” said the foolish singer,
My diamonds, emeralds -
I sorted them out of boredom.
A! By the way, brother,” he continued, “
When you're bored
What are you doing, please tell me.”
The poor guy responded indifferently:
- I? I scratch my mude.

Pushkin A. S. - On the pictures for “Eugene”
Onegin" in "Nevsky Almanac"

1
Here I crossed the Kokushkin Bridge,
Leaning your ass on granite,
Alexander Sergeich Pushkin himself
Standing with Monsieur Onegin.
Without giving a glance
The stronghold of fatal power,
He stood proudly with his back towards the fortress:
Don't spit in the well, my dear.

2
The navel turns black through the shirt,
Exposed tit - cute look!
Tatyana crumples a piece of paper in her hand,
Zane's stomach hurts:
She then got up in the morning
In the pale rays of the moon
And tore it up for rubbing
Of course, Nevsky Almanac.

Lermontov M. Yu. - “To Tizenhausen”

Don't drive your eyes so languidly,
Don't twist your round ass,
Voluptuousness and vice
Don't joke waywardly.
Don't go to someone else's bed
And don’t let me near yours,
Not jokingly, not really
Don't shake gentle hands.
Know, our lovely Chukhonian,
Youth doesn't shine for long!
Know: when the hand of God
Will break out over you
Everyone you are today
You look at your feet with prayer,
Sweet moisture of a kiss
They won't take away your sadness,
At least by the tip of the dick then
You would give your life.

Mayakovsky V.V.
“Do you like roses? And I shit on them"

Do you love roses?
and I shit on them!
the country needs steam locomotives,
we need metal!
comrade!
don't groan,
don't gasp!
don't pull the reins!
since I fulfilled the plan,
send everyone
in the pussy
did not fulfill -
myself
go
on
dick.

Mayakovsky V.V. - “We need fucking”

We need fucking
like the Chinese
rice.
Don't get tired of dick
Puff up the radio mast!
In both holes
look -
don't get caught
syphilis.
Otherwise you will
in front of doctors
writhe!

Found a place for a nest
Our stork!.. This bird is
Thunderstorm of frogs from the pond -
It nests in the belfry!

They chatter there all day long,
The people are literally groaning, -

He won't touch his nest!

You may ask why such an honor
Did the bird win? -

A commendable habit!

Nekrasov N. A. - “Finally from Koenigsberg”

Finally from Konigsberg
I got closer to the country
Where they don't like Gutenberg
And they find a taste in shit.
I drank Russian infusion,
I heard "motherfucker"
And they went before me
Write Russian faces.

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Hello comrades. You know, I noticed long ago that if you use swear words correctly, your speech is transformed. It becomes elegant and interesting. And most importantly, what strong emotions can be conveyed with just one Russian swear word. A unique thing - Russian swearing.

But unfortunately, most people do not know how to use it. Sculpts it through every word.

What do I suggest? I suggest you get acquainted with the works of many classics who used absurd verbs in their works.

You have heard and read many of them. Personally, I reread it with pleasure and rediscovered something for myself.

Perhaps I’m not the only one who will be interested.

Yesenin S. A. - “Don’t strain, dear, and don’t gasp”
Don’t grieve, dear, and don’t gasp,
Hold life like a horse by the bridle,
Tell everyone and everyone to go to hell
So that they don't send you to pussy!

Yesenin S. A. - “The wind blows from the south and the moon has risen”
The wind blows from the south
And the moon rose
What are you doing, whore?
Didn't come at night?

You didn't come at night
Didn't show up during the day.
Do you think we're jerking off?
No! We eat others!

Yesenin S. A. “Sing, sing. On the damn guitar"
Sing, sing. On the damn guitar
Your fingers dance in a semicircle.
I would choke in this frenzy,
My last, only friend.

Don't look at her wrists
And silk flowing from her shoulders.
I was looking for happiness in this woman,
And I accidentally found death.

I didn't know that love is an infection
I didn't know that love was a plague.
Came up with a narrowed eye
The bully was driven crazy.

Sing, my friend. Remind me again
Our former violent early.
Let her kiss each other,
Young, beautiful trash.

Oh, wait. I don't scold her.
Oh, wait. I don't curse her.
Let me play about myself
To this bass string.

The pink dome of my days is flowing.
In the heart of dreams there are golden sums.
I touched a lot of girls
He pressed a lot of women in the corner.

Yes! there is a bitter truth of the earth,
I spied with a childish eye:
Males lick in line
Bitch leaking juice.

So why should I be jealous of her?
So why should I be sick like that?
Our life is a sheet and a bed.
Our life is a kiss and a whirlwind.

Sing, sing! On a fatal scale
These hands are a fatal disaster.
Just you know, fuck them...
I will never die, my friend.

Yesenin S. A. - “Rash, harmonica. Boredom... Boredom"
Rash, harmonica. Boredom... Boredom...
The accordionist's fingers flow like a wave.
Drink with me, you lousy bitch
Drink with me.

They loved you, they abused you -
Unbearable.
Why are you looking at those blue splashes like that?
Or do you want a punch in the face?

I'd like to have you stuffed in the garden,
Scare the crows.
Tormented me to the bone
From all sides.

Rash, harmonica. Rash, my frequent one.
Drink, otter, drink.
I’d rather have that busty one over there -
She's dumber.

I'm not the first among women...
Quite a few of you
But with someone like you, with a bitch
Only for the first time.

The freer, the louder,
Here and there.
I won't commit suicide
Go to hell.

To your pack of dogs
It's time to catch a cold.
Darling, I'm crying
Sorry... sorry...

Mayakovsky V.V. - “To you”
To you, who live behind the orgy orgy,
having a bathroom and a warm closet!
Shame on you about those presented to George
read from newspaper columns?

Do you know, many mediocre,
those who think it’s better to get drunk how -
maybe now the leg bomb
tore Petrov's lieutenant away?..

If he is brought to slaughter,
suddenly I saw, wounded,
how you have a lip smeared in a cutlet
lustfully humming the Northerner!

Is it for you, who love women and dishes,
give your life for pleasure?!
I'd rather be at the bar whores
serve pineapple water!
(Something reminds me of the plot of the poem. For example, the modern world and its foundations)

Mayakovsky V.V. “Do you like roses? And I shit on them"
Do you love roses?
and I shit on them!
the country needs steam locomotives,
we need metal!
comrade!
don't groan,
don't gasp!
don't pull the reins!
since I fulfilled the plan,
send everyone
in the pussy
did not fulfill -
myself
go
on
dick.
(currently relevant today)

Mayakovsky V.V. - “Hymn of Onanists”
We,
onanists,
Guys
broadshoulders!
Us
you can't lure
meaty tit!
Not
seduce us
cunt
spit!
Cumshot
right,
work left!!!
(Yes, this is the anthem of the pikabushniki XD, sorry guys, this is Winrar :))

Mayakovsky V.V. - “Who are the whores”
Not those
whores
what bread
for the sake of
front
and behind
give us
fuck,
God forgive them!
And those whores -
lying
money
sucking,
eat
not giving -
whores
existing,
their mother!

Mayakovsky V.V. - “I’m lying on someone else’s wife”
Lie
to someone else's
wife,
ceiling
sticks
fuck you,
but we don't complain -
making communists
out of spite
bourgeois
Europe!
Let the dick
my
like a mast
puffs up!
I don't care,
who is under me -
minister's wife
or the cleaning lady!

Mayakovsky V.V. - “Hey, onanists”
Hey onanists,
shout "Hurray!" -
fucking machines
established,
at your service
any hole
right up to
to the keyhole
wells!!!

Lermontov M. Yu. - “To Tizenhausen”
Don't drive your eyes so languidly,
Don't twist your round ass,
Voluptuousness and vice
Don't joke waywardly.
Don't go to someone else's bed
And don’t let me near yours,
Not jokingly, not really
Don't shake gentle hands.
Know, our lovely Chukhonian,
Youth doesn't shine for long!
Know: when the hand of God
Will break out over you
Everyone you are today
You look at your feet with prayer,
Sweet moisture of a kiss
They won't take away your sadness,
At least by the tip of the dick then
You would give your life.

Lermontov M. Yu. - “Oh, how sweet your goddess”
Impromptu
Oh how sweet your goddess is.
The Frenchman is trailing after her,
She has a face like a melon
But the ass is like a watermelon.

Goethe Johann - “What a Stork Can Do”
Found a place for a nest
Our stork!.. This bird is
Thunderstorm of frogs from the pond -
It nests in the belfry!

They chatter there all day long,
The people are literally groaning, -
But no one - neither old nor young -
He won't touch his nest!

You may ask why such an honor
Did the bird win? -
She's a bastard! - shit on the church!
A commendable habit!

Nekrasov N. A. - “Finally from Koenigsberg”
Finally from Konigsberg
I got closer to the country
Where they don't like Gutenberg
And they find a taste in shit.
I drank Russian infusion,
I heard "motherfucker"
And they went before me
Write Russian faces.

Pushkin A. S. - “Anne Wulf”
Alas! in vain to the proud maiden
I offered my love!
Neither our life nor our blood
Her soul will not be touched by the solid.
I'll just be fed up with tears,
Even if sadness breaks my heart.
She's enough to piss on a sliver,
But he won’t let you smell it either.

Pushkin A. S. - “I wanted to refresh my soul”
I wanted to refresh my soul,
Live a seasoned life
In sweet oblivion near friends
Of my past youth.
____

I was traveling to distant lands;
It was not noisy whores that I craved,
I was not looking for gold, not for honor,
In the dust among spears and swords.

Pushkin A. S. - “Once a violinist came to the castrato”
Once a violinist came to the castrato,
He was a poor man, and he was a rich man.
“Look,” said the foolish singer,
My diamonds, emeralds -
I sorted them out of boredom.
A! By the way, brother,” he continued, “
When you're bored
What are you doing, please tell me.”
The poor guy responded indifferently:
- I? I scratch my mude.

Pushkin A. S. - “The Cart of Life”
In the morning we get into the cart,
We're happy to break our heads
And, despising laziness and bliss,
We shout: let's go! Her mother!
_________________________
Be quiet, godfather; and you, like me, are sinners,
And you will offend everyone with words;
You see a straw in someone else's pussy,
And you don’t even see a log!
(“From the All-Night Vigil...”)
________________________

And finally.

“I live in Paris like a dandy,
I have up to a hundred women.
My dick is like a plot in a legend,
It goes from mouth to mouth.”

- V.V. Mayakovsky

Guys, who has more, write in the comments.

Love is a swim, you either need to dive headfirst or not get into the water at all. If you wander along the shore in knee-deep water, you will only be splashed with splashes and you will be cold and angry.

Don’t grieve, dear, and don’t gasp,
Hold life like a horse by the bridle,
Tell everyone and everyone to fuck off. y!,
So that they don’t send you to hell!

You don't love me, you don't regret me,
Am I not a little handsome?
Without looking in the face, you are thrilled with passion,
He placed his hands on my shoulders.
Young, with a sensual grin,
I am neither gentle nor rude with you.
Tell me how many people have you caressed?
How many hands do you remember? How many lips?
I know they passed by like shadows
Without touching your fire,
You sat on the knees of many,
And now you're sitting here with me.
Let your eyes be half closed
And you're thinking about someone else
I don’t really love you very much myself,
Drowning in the distant dear.
Don't call this ardor fate
A frivolous hot-tempered connection, -
How I met you by chance,
I smile, calmly walking away.
Yes, and you will go your own way
Sprinkle joyless days
Just don’t touch those who haven’t been kissed,
Just don’t lure those who haven’t been burned.
And when with another in the alley
You'll walk by chatting about love
Maybe I'll go for a walk
And we will meet again with you.
Turning your shoulders closer to the other
And leaning down a little,
You will tell me quietly: “Good evening!”
I will answer: “Good evening, miss.”
And nothing will disturb the soul,
And nothing will make her tremble, -
He who loved cannot love,
You can't set fire to someone who's burned out.

In thunderstorms, in storms, in the coldness of life, during heavy losses and when you are sad, appearing smiling and simple is the highest art in the world.

Just please, don’t go missing,
Leave at least some clues and addresses.
I will search for you forever
For now I will dream of our spring.

What can I tell you about this most terrible kingdom of philistinism, which borders on idiocy? Apart from the foxtrot, there is almost nothing here, here they eat and drink, and again there is a foxtrot. I haven’t met the person yet and I don’t know where he smells. Mr. Dollar is in terrible fashion, and the art of sneezing is the highest music hall. I didn’t even want to publish books here, despite the cheapness of paper and translations. No one here needs this... Even though we are beggars, even if we have hunger, cold... but we have a soul, which was rented out here as unnecessary for Smerdyakovism.

I would forget taverns forever, and I would give up writing poetry, just to subtly touch your hand and your hair the color of autumn...

Living with your soul wide open is like walking with your fly open.

"Russia. What a beautiful word! And dew, and strength, and something blue..."

“Sing, sing. On the damn guitar"

Sing, sing. On the damn guitar

Your fingers dance in a semicircle.

I would choke in this frenzy,

My last, only friend.

Don't look at her wrists

And silk flowing from her shoulders.

I was looking for happiness in this woman,

And I accidentally found death.

I didn't know that love is an infection

I didn't know love was a plague.

Came up with a narrowed eye

The bully was driven crazy.

Sing, my friend. Remind me again

Our former violent early.

Let her kiss each other,

Oh, wait. I don't scold her.

Oh, wait. I don't curse her.

Let me play about myself

To this bass string.

The pink dome of my days is flowing.

In the heart of dreams there are golden sums.

I touched a lot of girls

He pressed a lot of women in the corner.

Yes! there is a bitter truth of the earth,

I spied with a childish eye:

Males lick in line

Bitch leaking juice.

So why should I be jealous of her?

So why should I be sick like that?

The freer, the louder,

Here and there.

I won't commit suicide

Go to hell.

To your pack of dogs

It's time to catch a cold.

Darling, I'm crying

Sorry... sorry...

"Sorokoust"

A. Mariengof

The horn of death blows, blows!

What should we do, what should we do now?

On the muddy thighs of the roads?

You lovers of song fleas,

Would you like to suck the gelding?

It’s full of meekness to celebrate,

Like it or not, you know, take it.

It's good when twilight teases

And they pour it into your fat asses

The bloody broom of dawn.

Soon the freeze will whiten with lime

That village and these meadows.

There is nowhere for you to hide from death,

There is no escape from the enemy.

Here he is, here he is with an iron belly,

Pulls his fingers to the throats of the plains,

The old mill leads with its ear,

I sharpened my milling nose.

And the yard silent bull,

That he spilled all his brains on the chicks,

Wiping my tongue on the spindle,

I sensed trouble over the field.

Oh, isn't it just outside the village?

This is how the harmonica cries pitifully:

Tala-la-la, tili-li-gom

Hanging over a white window sill.

And the yellow wind of autumn

Isn’t that why, touching the blue ripples,

As if with a horse comb,

Strips leaves from maples.

He comes, he comes, a terrible messenger,

The fifth bulky thicket aches.

And the songs become more and more yearning

To the sound of a frog squeaking in the straw.

Oh electric sunrise

Belts and pipes have a tight grip,

Behold the ancient belly

Steel fever is shaking!

Have you seen

How he runs across the steppes,

Hiding in the lake mists,

Snoring with an iron nostril,

A train on cast iron legs?

Through the big grass

Like at a festival of desperate racing,

Throwing thin legs to the head,

Red-maned colt galloping?

Dear, dear, funny fool,

Well, where is he, where is he going?

Doesn't he really know that live horses

Did the steel cavalry win?

Doesn't he really know that in the fields of lightless

His running will not bring back that time,

When a couple of beautiful steppe Russian women

Did you give Pechenegs for a horse?

Fate repainted it differently at the auction

Our reach, awakened by the grinding,

And for thousands of pounds of horse leather and meat

They are now buying a locomotive.

Damn you, nasty guest!

Our song won't work with you.

It's a pity that you didn't have to as a child

Drown like a bucket in a well.

It's good for them to stand and watch

Painting mouths with tin kisses, -

Only for me, as a psalm-reader, to sing

“Hallelujah” over our native country.

That's why on September morning

On dry and cold loam,

My head smashed against the fence,

The rowan berries are drenched in blood.

That's why the tension has grown in

In the bustle of the ringing talyanka.

And a man smelling of straw

He choked on the dashing moonshine.

“Don’t grieve, dear, and don’t gasp”

Don’t grieve, dear, and don’t gasp,

Hold life like a horse by the bridle,

Tell everyone and everyone to go to hell

So that they don't send you to pussy!

"Yes! Now it's decided. No refund"

Yes! Now it's decided. No refund

I left my native fields.

They will no longer be winged leaves

I need the poplars to ring.

My old dog died long ago.

I love this elm city,

Let him be flabby and let him become decrepit.

Golden nap Asia

She rested on the domes.

And when the moon shines at night,

When it shines... God knows how!

I walk with my head hanging down,

Down the street to a familiar pub.

The noise and din in this terrible lair,

But all night long, until dawn,

I read poetry to prostitutes

And I fry alcohol with the bandits.

The heart beats faster and faster,

And I say it out of place:

“I’m just like you, lost,

I can’t go back now.”

The low house will stoop without me,

My old dog died long ago.

On Moscow's crooked streets

God destined me to die, to know.

"The wind blows from the south and the moon has risen"

The wind blows from the south

And the moon rose

What are you doing, whore?

Didn't come at night?

You didn't come at night

Didn't show up during the day.

Do you think we're jerking off?

Classmates

"The wind blows from the south and the moon has risen"

The wind blows from the south
And the moon rose
What are you doing, whore?
Didn't come at night?

You didn't come at night
Didn't show up during the day.
Do you think we're jerking off?
No! We eat others!

“Sing, sing. On the damn guitar"

Sing, sing. On the damn guitar
Your fingers dance in a semicircle.
I would choke in this frenzy,
My last, only friend.

Don't look at her wrists
And silk flowing from her shoulders.
I was looking for happiness in this woman,
And I accidentally found death.

I didn't know that love is an infection
I didn't know love was a plague.
Came up with a narrowed eye
The bully was driven crazy.

Sing, my friend. Remind me again
Our former violent early.
Let her kiss each other,
Young, beautiful trash.

Oh, wait. I don't scold her.
Oh, wait. I don't curse her.
Let me play about myself
To this bass string.

The pink dome of my days is flowing.
In the heart of dreams there are golden sums.
I touched a lot of girls
He pressed a lot of women in the corner.

Yes! there is a bitter truth of the earth,
I spied with a childish eye:
Males lick in line
Bitch leaking juice.

So why should I be jealous of her?
So why should I be sick like that?
Our life is a sheet and a bed.
Our life is a kiss and a whirlwind.

Sing, sing! On a fatal scale
These hands are a fatal disaster.
Just you know, fuck them...
I will never die, my friend.

“Rash, harmonica. Boredom... Boredom"

Rash, harmonica. Boredom... Boredom...
The accordionist's fingers flow like a wave.
Drink with me, you lousy bitch
Drink with me.

They loved you, they abused you -
Unbearable.
Why are you looking at those blue splashes like that?
Or do you want a punch in the face?

I'd like to have you stuffed in the garden,
Scare the crows.
Tormented me to the bone
From all sides.

Rash, harmonica. Rash, my frequent one.
Drink, otter, drink.
I’d rather have that busty one over there -
She's dumber.

I’m not the first among women...
Quite a few of you
But with someone like you, with a bitch
Only for the first time.

The freer, the louder,
Here and there.
I won't commit suicide
Go to hell.

To your pack of dogs
It's time to catch a cold.
Darling, I'm crying
Sorry... sorry...

"Sorokoust"

A. Mariengof

The horn of death blows, blows!
What should we do, what should we do now?
On the muddy thighs of the roads?

You lovers of song fleas,
Would you like to suck the gelding?

It’s full of meekness to celebrate,
Like it or not, you know, take it.
It's good when twilight teases
And they pour it into your fat asses
The bloody broom of dawn.

Soon the freeze will whiten with lime
That village and these meadows.
There is nowhere for you to hide from death,
There is no escape from the enemy.

Here he is, here he is with an iron belly,
Pulls his fingers to the throats of the plains,
The old mill leads with its ear,
I sharpened my milling nose.
And the yard silent bull,
That he spilled all his brains on the heifers,
Wiping my tongue on the spindle,
I sensed trouble over the field.

Oh, isn't it just outside the village?
This is how the harmonica cries pitifully:
Tala-la-la, tili-li-gom
Hanging over a white window sill.
And the yellow wind of autumn
Isn’t that why, touching the blue ripples,
As if with a horse comb,
Strips leaves from maples.
He comes, he comes, a terrible messenger,
The fifth bulky thicket aches.
And the songs become more and more yearning
To the sound of a frog squeaking in the straw.
Oh electric sunrise
Belts and pipes have a tight grip,
Behold the ancient belly
Steel fever is shaking!

Have you seen
How he runs across the steppes,
Hiding in the lake mists,
Snoring with an iron nostril,
A train on cast iron legs?

And behind him
Through the big grass
Like at a festival of desperate racing,
Throwing thin legs to the head,
Red-maned colt galloping?

Dear, dear, funny fool,
Well, where is he, where is he going?
Doesn't he really know that live horses
Did the steel cavalry win?
Doesn't he really know that in the fields of lightless
His running will not bring back that time,
When a couple of beautiful steppe Russian women
Did you give Pechenegs for a horse?
Fate repainted it differently at the auction
Our reach, awakened by the grinding,
And for thousands of pounds of horse leather and meat
They are now buying a locomotive.

Damn you, nasty guest!
Our song won't work with you.
It's a pity that you didn't have to as a child
Drown like a bucket in a well.
It's good for them to stand and watch
Painting mouths with tin kisses, -
Only for me, as a psalm-reader, to sing
“Hallelujah” over our native country.
That's why on September morning
On dry and cold loam,
My head smashed against the fence,
The rowan berries are drenched in blood.
That's why the tension has grown in
In the bustle of the ringing talyanka.
And a man smelling of straw
He choked on the dashing moonshine.

“Don’t grieve, dear, and don’t gasp”

Don’t grieve, dear, and don’t gasp,
Hold life like a horse by the bridle,
Tell everyone and everyone to go to hell
So that they don't send you to pussy!

"Yes! Now it's decided. No refund"

Yes! Now it's decided. No refund
I left my native fields.
They will no longer be winged leaves
I need the poplars to ring.

My old dog died long ago.

I love this elm city,
Let him be flabby and let him become decrepit.
Golden nap Asia
She rested on the domes.

And when the moon shines at night,
When it shines... God knows how!
I walk with my head hanging down,
Down the street to a familiar pub.

The noise and din in this terrible lair,
But all night long, until dawn,
I read poetry to prostitutes
And I fry alcohol with the bandits.

The heart beats faster and faster,
And I say it out of place:
“I’m just like you, lost,
I can’t go back now.”

The low house will stoop without me,
My old dog died long ago.
On Moscow's crooked streets
God destined me to die, to know.