Shakespeare by couture
Maria Khamzina
These little games in wise grown up heroes…
Conversations, meetings, debates...Going on three,
No problem, komments know, life flows slowly,
And carries from our kitchens Freud Mtsensk spill.
Time wrinkles tired, we are cynical, it's fashion,
Bread and circuses – thank you, this is food for people,
In Christ's eyes alter on the placard Easter…
We are cynical, Yes, of course...but quite Patriarchal.
All by the measure, all seriously, we are tired, but did not live…
Early in the morning – to work, there we are still two-pronged,
Money smells of black leather and French perfume…
And the redeemed of the fashionable glossy magazines in the tub.
But tell me, friend Horace...though I know what you will say.
Hamlet is now a marketer, feeding daughter semolina,
He answered the questions, all simple, normal lives,
Poor Yorick these days is too marginal.
Horace, why is our Elsinore sick?
Well, let's solve the problem in a heart-to-heart conversation,
And maybe I'll believe that. what to be-easy and simple…
...All tightly compresses the heart this sticky scab.
