In tins, the dough grew on the table.
The Ordinance we had on Friday.
For a week grandma doing your bread
Said: "this day good people do not quarrel!"
And then to me: "go away. Do not disturb!
Shut up, because that bread is already a little perched.
Scare and fly out of his soul.
Doors don't touch. Sit down and not rock the boat!"
I freeze – soul was sorry.
Let all palenicek left.
Everything was thought: where is it in the bread, the soul?
And how and where to run from the noise?
Find certainly, once baked,
And useless looking, trying to see.
But it was impossible not vdcwt –
That soul –
It immediately gave out incense.