***

In the old cutton blanket slumbering pot,
I'm just about to lose my mind.
Young potatoes with garlic and dill.
; I can't wait any longer, I'm drenched in sweat ;
Here comes the Langeron beach, the pot is awake!
The baby potato smiled at me...
Everyone knows the sad end of Kolobok!
I'm sorry, potato, your fate is doomed
&

The heat of New York has made me crazy!
I fried potatoes and mushrooms and ate them.
And I felt so potato-y
Comfortable, serene, sleepy...
Too bad the frying pan is empty... I'm sad.)
&

Potato souls
they're not afraid of heat or cold.
Potato souls,
In love with salty herring.
Some say potatoes make you fat,
But those who don't like potatoes
get cold in summer and sweat in winter chills.

&
On the stove, on the blanket wiped with bare feet,
I want to curl up again.
Rub a crust of black bread with garlic,
Run barefoot on the uncut grass.
Eat potato soup or soup with potato...
It has only potatoes, onions and a pinch of farina....

Some memories are burning my brain
But I'm not trying to change anything of my fate!
!

Другие статьи в литературном дневнике:

• 17.08.2025. ***