Poetry reading Dmitry Bykov, Mikhail Efremov.
In the latest edition of «Citizen of the poet» — Alexander Twardowski.
His poem «Lenin and the oven-bird,» said Dmitry Bykov, best describes the experiences of the people on the activity of the President and the Prime Minister (who played badminton, and corn with the harvesters gathered).
Agrees with him, Mikhail Efremov.
In boots and a threadbare shirt,
With the hangover, in all its glory
It was krstyanin on corn field,
For uncompressed bandwidth.
Jacket hung Kurguzov,
Of cigarette smoke was …
I thought, «This is the same! Corn! »
Thinking further, he could not.
Suddenly zaryavkali motors
Approached combines structure,
In a food processor — one that!
And in the next — one second!
In jackets, brand colors,
Surrounded by villagers
And in the hands of their rackets,
And each shuttle.
Unapproachable, as a state secret,
And swift as the Whack,
Putin went out of the combine!
Putin! Here, and sat the farmer.
Left, the sun osiyanen,
Came to his native mucus …
— What, shaking, a Russian?
That is correct, shaking …
She saw them before him,
— How did you here … both?
What I deserve it?
Suddenly available —
Recruit-it is a whale, —
— Do not be afraid! — Said Putin.
— We just Dimona.
Just today at lunch,
Finishing their escalope,
We thought with Medvedev —
Stir up more then b?
All we were doing something there,
Entertains the whole country:
Control the aircraft,
Plunged into the depths
Tender friendship is not dormant,
The cows were milked,
Twitter, a sweater, «Macintosh»,
Skiing, dancing, all that hosh!
And when the ringing of the tea cups
Was the reply he said:
We are never to grain
Do not play badminton!
Neither in Russia nor in the Union
So do not tell me?
And yet — in the corn!
After all, the same funnier than in the Rye!
On such serious topics,
Gasped softly villager:
«This is cool! But why? «
Putin ate this insolence
And the answer is not to lie:
— What else to do here?
Well, not rule, however, say it!
And the farmer, tightening the memory
Kings and blurted:
— True, you’d better not govern.
It’s better here … the fields …
To rackets and shuttlecocks,
And the courage to combine …
And what are your plans?
Though I am a woman tell you!
And with a smile like an angel,
He said: «Like this:
Then eh skiing in the tank,
Whether in a tank on journalism. «
What can I say something to offer,
Lying in awe at the haystack?
— How are you so you can not l?
— Yeah, — said the he — I can not.