month, Mayakovsky!
Mayachy south!
A heart
rhymes grind -
behold
and love is the skiff,
dear Vladim Vladimych.
No pain you, for Christ's sake! If Oska will not look for you and deliver your lungs (this place had to stop and climb to you in a letter, to find out, how do you spell: I wanted to "lehko") where to apply, I'll bring you to the apartment coniferous forest, and will hold the office in Oskina sea at its own discretion. If your thermometer will climb further, than thirty-six degrees, I broken off all his paws.