Wise poet Burlaka

There is a poet named Burlaka. His poems are Pulitzer-eligible and he's a village lunatic, too. Once I bought a triple cheeseburger for a buck and proudly walked down a street with this bargain. Burlaka was just released again from an asylum. He met me and asked: "My friend HighDuke, can I bum a bite?" So he did, then told: "Let me tell you a story".

Can you see this sky above us? It is not the end of Universe. Over this plain vanilla sky there is a lucid sky with diamonds called stars. Over this lucid sky there is a sky of precious smoke, where Jah is chilling out high. Over the sky of precious smoke there is a cold and scary sky of noble lunatics, full of Special K. Over the sky of noble lunatics there is a Skywide Net - if you are into it, it got you indeed. Over the Skywide Net there is only empty space where ethereal birds made of emptiness are flying. Those birds flying and flying and flying, singing their songs, enjoying themselves and each other in many funny ways. Because there is a lot of those birds, at least one egg laid down the emptiness every day.

It's falling thru the Skywide Net without a lag; it's falling thru the sky of noble lunatics without chilling out; it's falling thru the sky of precious smoke without stoning. It's falling down so straight-edge, man! After the lucid sky it's approaching our atmosphere warming and warming and warming up against it... and, just before it hits the Earth, the nestling hatches on the fly! It hatches and flies up immediately, flies thru all heavens in their order and returns to the emptiness where it belongs. Dig it, man?

"Nice one," - I said, "but it seems to be missing something." Burlaka replied: "When I told this story to another people they told me that it has one weak spot. What those birds are eating? I'll tell you the secret - they are feeding on our daydreams and hopes..."

English translation: (c) juzy http://juzy.livejournal.com