Nicron #40 26 июня 1997

Юмор

Poems - Programmers-emigrants.

(R) MDF HACKER.

         PROGRAMMERS Emigrant


      Already scratch at the door and confusion, and carnage
      No longer make out - where the mouth, where the sources.
      Not my enemies - flying my friends
      Long-south, the Middle East.

      Why the recent meetings sunset rays
      And selling off belongings and crying when he left?
      Their name will be two homelands in the night -
      That, the former has its own, and that even a stranger.

      In the vanity apron, over other people's heads
      In a farewell this moment at the Kiev railway station
      A lot of shall we say to each other warm words
      That in the bustle and hurry not say.

      Fly my friends HD with floppies
      By the promised one from this, from the wretched.
      From this no wait they already
      And there does not get everything given, by God.

      Leaving all the friends, rejecting the country that
      Where everyday so sorry, but the war so cruel
      Fly my friends long south
      Long-south, the Middle East.

      And contrary to the heart, contrary to reason
      Through a VGA-display windows and cobwebs
      Two homeland they look from under the hand:
      One looks in your eyes, the other looks back.



(C) WHALE