We live in a difficult world, on a hostile planet, which tends to make life impossible.
daily fight to try to survive each day without fail and we are overwhelmed by hatred inherent in every creature that crossed our path. There
place of refuge, there is no remote corner who can ignore the threats coming from all directions, coming from above and even from the most inimaginabili. 
There is unnecessarily depressing and very well, while still watching this spring illusions that touches the acme of hypocrisy and falsehood. Not a glimmer of light through the dark blanket of clouds, not a mere ray of sunlight pierces the veil nubica, not a glimpse of blue sky can be seen in the serious press in the gray immensity of its altitude.
In these days full of restlessness, in the most high of its meaning, the only thing left to do is devote yourself to reading the poet's many resources, the jockey of goats, the terrorist of the pen or the penalty , as appropriate. Many times, in fact, one could or rather should commit to something else, but this is one of my favorite activities, so I'm delighted to exorcise my problems calling on those who had the worst, or so said the poet breaks pencils Kyrgyz Aligolok Barganov.
This poem is taken from the term "natural", also known as a period "of ducks." We may note, below, as The young scribe is astonished vision of creation.
Ducklings 
lying on the grass I look at the calm waters
peaceful sott'al only contemplate tutt'il
river ducks quietly sailed on, "but that beautiful"
"those are not ducks but ducks"
acid acts or the naturalist
Blind.
pain.
I'm dreaming.
No, I'm awake.
Where am I going, but that is my sister?
Ah my grandmother's house in the country.
No, the demon of the trip ... leave me alone, I will not leave, I'm fine here. Go away, you crush your head, you bastard you can not take.
They rang the bell.
Blind. Why
. What
. Hey
February I ordered a beer, no I do not want to go to Paris ... because we are not here?
Shit I still have that cat into the house, no Ska stop it to run after him.
Could I have a glass of water my throat is dry, I'm from another, continue to thirst.
Blind.
Who are you?
Where am I?
The forest of fairies, which is cool, really nice. But where are you taking me?
Blood for the Blood God, our Lord Korn. I'll eat your heart son of a bitch.
Hello how are you, are you okay ... but where have you gone you're gone, where are you? Back please.
The train goes, goes, never knows when it will stop.
Blind.
pain.
Headache.
Hey, hey, c'mon, c'mon, a saw here, I do not think the case, but if you insist, go quiet.
The genie of the lamp, even four, no one is Goofy.
Good fruit, where did you get it, is large. Grandma does not make me more salad?
IMHO, the passive periphrastic do not make sense, you think that you can use in a sentence, but if I barely use the present tense.
Blind.
Why?
there?
do not see why I should not remove the head with a net shot, I have never been insulted so badly, it seems obvious that the above is mine, I do not understand on what basis his opinions are based.
Chickens frighten me, I seem a bit 'large.
Blind.
It's cold.
Where am I?
explain to me why you insist on burning larch? You know that the resin dirty chimney, you have to clean it every 3 months, then do not complain if you catch fire, it seems the least that can happen.
Shit, "Under the bridge," I do not know "Wish You Were Here", "One" perhaps, I have to pee, I can not, I can not.
Simon awoke, he was sweating.
began to look around, the darkness was the only thing visible.
The view slowly, slowly getting used to the lack of light. He did not recognize the place where he was, every shape and every shadow that began to emerge not belong to him.
A terror began to creep into the bowels, had to go to the bathroom.
He tried to get up.
He tried to move an arm, a hand.
could not.
Mille doubt tortured his mind, what was going on, what the fuck was going on.
Now, I really was scared, afraid.
A smile shone in the darkness and shadows began to gather around.
''I'll show you what is the real pain.''
were the last words he heard.
the end, thanks to an intrinsic ineptitude rooted in my being, I stay there again below. I doubt, too, of a shot, now you can not react, oppose any change becomes difficult, then, a toast to life, perhaps with excessive zeal, but, of course, with excellent results, as to the course taken and the remarkable incidents of aberrant drunkenness.
sure I was in, but do not remember what the reason behind virtually every this apprehension with regard to life, perhaps the state of unconsciousness accompanied me for most of the day does not help to understand the causes of this malaise, generalized to all that surrounds me.
In these moments really amazing things are happening. The first is the continual return of the sentence: "This time we were under." The second is that I really do not understand what this crap or maximum, depending on your point of view.
