The guy Kurman on the Mongol rode,
The guy Kurman with horses rested.
He verel in themselves and the herd of horses,
He denied his work.
With a whip in the margin,
And whistling from her lips.
He always spurred,
Lovely girlfriends.
They ran,
And the Mongol bore,
His heavenly rider.
Rode it on arable land and fields.
The Mongol of violence it winds
But the wind whistling it failed.
The Mongolian trip,
Fell they.
Kurman upside down, clinging flies,
Grabbed by uztsy he his mares.
What do you Mare cheated nostril,
And still, I hand you to stop.
Chirp CENTURIES g 22:10
Kurman and Mongolian
© Copyright: Виктор Чирик, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №214092800073
Свидетельство о публикации №214092800073
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