Intro..
Draw...
Poems..







White poplar is large-minded
and: certainly not blind 
from staring into the sun every day
Whenever it rains well - he is happy:
whisper with himself from joy
and check the pronunciation in splashes:
he is very proud of his distinctive “sh”
and also has very beautiful leaves:
which are always five fingered
with white palms
So I think that: if their veins were poured with real red blood:
- definitely something decisive would happen -
maybe:
the drunken woodcutters would be spanked on their backs suddenly 
and the woodsman would complain in the tavern:
that someone catch him by the neck at night occasionally -
maybe one thoughtful poet would be grow up:
who would through the lifetime thoroughly put self into writings:
and maybe somebody would be finally found:
who would took things into hands properly
One way or another:
it would probably be worth asking the suicides:
so as they don't jump off the bridge:
but rather they can cut their veins under his fantastic crown
Yes: maybe I'll do it myself once -
because it would be really pompous -
die during the looking: how he spreads his fingers
and rubs his palms at the first time









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