Restaurant Saga
For you, I spared neither money nor effort,
I decided I would certainly succeed.
At the corner cafe, emboldened, I invited you,
The chef there cooks borscht excellently.
You sat sadly, preserving your coldness,
Rejecting the pampushki and salo.
Resentment pressed down, suffocated me,
The disgrace was hateful.
Then we went to an expensive restaurant,
Where the style is noble and proper.
I booked a small hall, there was a soft sofa,
The cutlery lay picturesquely.
For you, I ordered Calvados with foie gras,
Lobster, Icelandic herring.
Beluga caviar gleamed in a bucket,
Half a liter of Kristallovskaya vodka.
You ate everything, drank. Your gaze came alive.
I, timidly, touched your hand,
Suggested moving to the red sofa.
You howled: "Not a foot over there!".
"Dessert and a taxi!", — you declared crisply,
Nervously straightening your dress.
I realized my efforts were in vain,
And my venous pulse quickened.
"Well then, dynamite girl, you'll go home," —
I asked for the bill from the waiter.
"Go to the toilet, here's a handkerchief," —
I said, nurturing plans of revenge.
You snorted, sharply shrugged your shoulder,
Left, swaying your rear strongly.
And I took a sip from the glass of "Chablis"
Proceeding with my vendetta.
While you powdered your nose before the mirror,
I, not wasting any time,
Stuffed into a bag for you a crystal tray,
A tea set for Chinese tea,
An etching from the wall, silver from the table,
A salt cellar and two candelabras.
Magnificent loot accumulated in the bag,
The curtains and mop didn't fit.
Security nabbed you right at the door,
The police arrived swiftly.
You screamed, scratched in haste:
"Don't touch me! It's a mistake!".
Five years in the zone, the prosecutor requested,
Our court turned out to be more humane.
"Three years suspended," — that was the verdict.
I laughed mockingly for a long time.
It's a sin to trample on erotic ardor,
While going to cafes, restaurants.
You ate? Then give it up! The man deserves it.
He'll even treat you to marzipan.