Diaries

My father


My father was an alcoholic,
Though the drink and thought - is not sinful.
Well, it was with vodka. And with bread
It was not always so good.
Thirty years of union of events
Neither absenteeism nor high-profile victories,
Eight letters, drive in sobering-up station
And a reward for seniority.

People of future - at the pediment of DC ...
Yes thoughtful verse Okudzhava ...
And, as prices declined while unrest
For the perfect ...