A building full of hatred, and residents spreading the contagion. All die in slow agony, there is no hope for these classes. They think like a poor poor man. They just want to survive day by day, they never laugh again, they only become food for the "dragon". Tell me how, just hoping to survive, they can't even come to terms with death. And again it's time for food unfortunately they are the ingredients for these dishes. Even the king manages to eat some, really poor souls. They don't care even if she's lonely, they eat everything, everything in the world
Answers 2
Read a little Vaptsarov, if you are looking for inspiration ... the poem does not make sense, the message is lost, it is confused ... you still have to practice ... it is not bad, but it is not enough Read and find the differences! MEMORY I had a friend, a good friend, but ... he was coughing badly. He was a fireman, carrying cumin with a basket, throwing slag twelve hours a night. I remember the eyes of this fireman. How eagerly these eyes swallowed all the rays, which, by chance, through soot, though, rarely infiltrated our cell. How quickly a feverish thirst was born in the spring, when the leaves of the yard rustled, in the space when a flock of birds was shooting. I felt how these pupils were praying, how they were suffering, how they were suffering! They wanted such a small mercy - until spring, until next spring ... She - spring - came beautiful: with sun, with warm breath and roses. A distant, violet breath floated clear in the sky. But it was dark inside and how heavy the lying prose was ... So, in our country life went wrong. The engine did not work well. He began to snore suspiciously and ... stopped. I don't know why, but maybe because the other one died. Or maybe not. Or maybe, in his hunger, the motorbike was waiting for a hand to throw the coal layer into the fiery hell in time. Yes, maybe. I don't know. But it seemed to me that he, in his stuttering chatter, was asking me with a painful howl, "Where is the other young man?" He - the other - died. And here - it's spring outside. Birds are shooting in the sky in the distance. But he will not see them again. And he was such a comrade ... A good comrade! ... But he coughed badly. A fireman. He carried cumin with a basket, dumped twelve hours a night. Nikola Vaptsarov I don't know why, but maybe because the other one died. Or maybe not. Or maybe, in his hunger, the motorbike was waiting for a hand to throw the coal layer into the fiery hell in time. Yes, maybe. I don't know. But it seemed to me that he, in his stuttering chatter, was asking me with a painful howl, "Where is the other young man?" He - the other - died. And here - it's spring outside. Birds are shooting in the sky in the distance. But he will not see them again. And he was such a comrade ... A good comrade! ... But he coughed badly. A fireman. He carried cumin with a basket, dumped twelve hours a night. Nikola Vaptsarov I don't know why, but maybe because the other one died. Or maybe not. Or maybe, in his hunger, the motorbike was waiting for a hand to throw the coal layer into the fiery hell in time. Yes, maybe. I don't know. But it seemed to me that he, in his stuttering chatter, was asking me with a painful howl, "Where is the other young man?" He - the other - died. And here - it's spring outside. Birds are shooting in the sky in the distance. But he will not see them again. And he was such a comrade ... A good comrade! ... But he coughed badly. A fireman. He carried cumin with a basket, threw away slag twelve hours a night. Nikola Vaptsarov He - the other - died. And here - it's spring outside. Birds are shooting in the sky in the distance. But he will not see them again. And he was such a comrade ... A good comrade! ... But he coughed badly. A fireman. He carried cumin with a basket, threw away slag twelve hours a night. Nikola Vaptsarov He - the other - died. And here - it's spring outside. Birds are shooting in the sky in the distance. But he will not see them again. And he was such a comrade ... A good comrade! ... But he coughed badly. A fireman. He carried cumin with a basket, dumped twelve hours a night. Nikola Vaptsarov
I liked it because I understood perfectly what you meant. And you're right, not to be seen ....