No stories thrill us, neither verse nor prose,
We know all and everything weíve seen...
The only worthy book is, I suppose,
The book of Code. Criminal, I mean.
When from hangover my head is to explode,
Or when from restlessness I go round the bend -
At any page I open this Code
And keep on reading till the very end!
Iíve always left my friends a wide discretion,
And they prefer to rob, I know my men!
Thatís what the article assigns for this transgression:
No less than three and no more than ten.
Just think about these lines, so plain and clear,
They tell us more than any author writes!
Behind these lines there is a world of fear,
Of morbid barracks, cards and bloody fights!
With broken fates these simple lines are breathing,
With those lines Iíd rather have no truck,
Boy, am I glad when articles are easy -
Some buddies will receive a piece of luck!
I reach my article - and then I lose my temper,
The heart begins to storm inside my breast,
And throbbing blood bangs madly in my temple
Just like police when coming to arrest!