From grief to grief
Life is a horror film
I count frames
But they are never ending
I’m even glad to see
The banks of Styx
But I’m hot and fast
And far from landing

Having sucked much blood
Pleased completely
A vampire
His muzzle in the snow
Licks zonked
He doesn’t care
That around here
Even a lean aged man
Is hard to find
As soon as eyes
From red

Aristocratically elegant and bright
He comes to win gray dullness of routines
He is nobly coldly mild
His witty jokes are frosty pins
A freshness master
Lord of winter news

It’s not a blur of blur
It’s blur that rules around
And noone afraids of slur
Having an excusory ground
And noone obeys to God
If his power is not seen
Singing elegies to mud

A macabre castle
Sinks in the fog
And the evil forest
Nearby
All it is upped
On a sinister rock
From the village people
Healthy life

What a luck are you talking about?
Are you, on Earth, sane?
I’m stranger. Just a tiny trout
In the near plant water lane

Yeah! My way is warm and cozy
But the substance I swim is red

He was an eternal boy…
Who wants to have a guitar as a toy…
He was from a depressed region…
His dream was his religion!
He tried to work in routine dirt…

Do I speak English?
Yes, I do!
But why am I an Englishman?!
Have neither root
Nor cultural clue…
I am just educated, then!