Капризный старик....

Вот это стихотворение надо дать почитать, или скорее прочесть в слух, женьке курицыной.

И объяснить ей, суке, что и она будет старой, с беззубым ртом, с обвисшей грудью, да и испрожняться будет под себя.

Интересно, а этой бл@ди, курицыной, есть родители, бабушка, дедушка? Как она к ним относится?

ОРИГИНАЛ:

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . . . . .What do you see?

What are you thinking . . . when you're looking at me?

A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,

Uncertain of habit . . . . . . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . ... . . and makes no reply.

When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'

Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.

And forever is losing . . . . . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . . . . lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse. . you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,

As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters . . . . . . . who love one another

A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet

Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.

A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.

Remembering, the vows . . . . .that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.

Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.

A man of Thirty . . . . . . . My young now grown fast,

Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,

But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.

At Fifty, once more, . . . . .Babies play 'round my knee,

Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.

I look at the future . . . . . . . I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.

And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.

It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles . . .. . grace and vigour, depart.

There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,

And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells

I remember the joys . . . . . . . I remember the pain.

And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.

And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people . . . . . . . . . open and see.

Not a cranky old man. . .

Look closer. . . . see. . . . . ME!!

Душа рвется.