John the Fool came to the doctor
in the evening,
exactly at five.
You have cancer, he told him,
go and die!
John hung his head - a diagnosis, after all.
Having felt his inner
pocket,
he decided to go to the pub for ale.
Why, he thought,
wait for the end in melancholy and sadness.
I\'d rather sit in the pub,
and drink wine to my heart\'s content and goodness!
He ordered wine, a hookah,
and vodka, and cognac.
He mixed everything
in one glass,
and treated the revelers as luck.
There, every drinking buddy is a
friend,
a human whirlwind!
And he forgot
about his illness,
and forgot about death bring.
And he was happy,
and his soul was joyful,
in the sweet hookah smoke,
in mad courage was fool.
The light in the tavern
was dim, and mood,
but suddenly he noticed
a familiar silhouette
and a black hood.
Well,
said John the Fool,
the bony she with the scythe!
Sit down with me,
take some cognac,
a sausage on the plate.
It is not for me to decide
my fate,
I remember, the time has expired.
Know mercy
to God\'s servant,
and give me an hour!
Before you take me,
don\'t shake your scythe!
Your work is hard,
so drink, have a snack then!
And deaths
sat down at the table,
opposite the fool place,
and taking a glass of wine in her hand,
thought for a little blink trace.
She drank the wine with cheer gusto,
and had bread and caviar for snacks.
Then she said: it\'s decided!
We\'ll party until the morning rise.
Shashlik, mushrooms,
Cheese Parmesan,
Smirnoffka with jamon,
and death drank
the eighth glass,
throwing back her hood off.
John paid her
a compliment,
saying, her figure is slender cotton.
Then he mixed
absinthe with the wine,
and drank it with her to the bottom.
Ivan was very glad of the reprieve,
and poured the cocktail.
She cast
a languid glance,
with a hint of bed as well…
They left the tavern together,
staggering, without a scythe.
The scythe was forgotten
under the table,
in the scraps of sausage.
And death came
to Ivan\'s house,
and lay down with him in bed.
And he, pressing
his hip against her,
did not think of dying as yet.
When it was light outside the window,
Ivan quietly got up.
He thought,
I was lucky,
I slept with death wrap.
Yesterday\'s hops were still fermenting
inside his swollen veins,
and he was bringing her coffee
to bed,
just like a gentleman.
But death
was gloomy in the morning,
as if for show death.
She smoked silently by the window,
vomited into the toilet.
Then she said:
Forget it all,
I overdid it a bit.
Now I\'ll finish your
journey,
already - for sure the pit.
John exclaimed:
How can this be,
we are close now!
She answered: Fool!
And all of you are fools! Chaos
I\'ll do my job,
but it\'s not the first time for me.
The crows have already flown in,
and hear the howling of women.
Here on the floor
John lies,
and there is a chill in his heart,
with dead eyes
he looks at the ceiling white.
And death, now
for sure
having sworn off drinking wine,
is looking for another fool,
for there are plenty of fools at times.
You ask:
Where is the autor moral?
The price of a moral is a penny.
No matter how you drive away
melancholy and sadness,
you cannot escape death any way !