their inclination:

imperative

the accusatory

and exonerating

don't want to learn

I want to marry

Old new fairy tale

I said: "I love you".

You laughed,

And your laughter sounded in the silence

like the crunch of a broken mirror...

And shards of laughter, -

Mirrors, repel us, -

Stuck us in heart.

We realized:

According to accept,

Love,

Will haunt us

At least seven more years.

Heart- bluffer

I'm waiting for you.

My heart

Knocking louder

So I identified it knock

with your knock on the door

And calmed down.

Typical randomness

I'll go with you

On a crowded street.

We are happy.

But nobody's paying attention!

Only the blind beggar

Suddenly grabbed me by the sleeve -

"Submit a living!"

Is it accident?

Robinson of love

You're always alone

as the only

desert island

Where I'm not alone.

* * *

How to connect

Incompatible feelings:

I love you

because I see in you a riddle,

And you me

because I understand you...

Sometimes mutual love

most to be undivided:

It cannot be

Divided into two parts

Equally.

* * *

If you stop loving me,

I am drown oneself

In your blue eyes.

Will you forget me,

But someday

I find it with an aqualung

At the bottom of the

Your deep eyes...* * *

The sorrow of the separation -

like a mosquito:

buzzing in the ears, without ceasing,

then bite...

Pain is almost there,

but the itch is unbearable!

* * *

Suppose you left me,

Love still lives in things

left you.

Mirror askance:

they have not seen you.

Your red shawl

Bent so that he can not breathe:

he suffers

Because you have forgotten it.

Cup from which you drink,

crashed

for me to be back soon happiness!

Cup, mirror, handkerchief ...

They soured.

But if you throw them away

They love will disappear!

Love as an umbrella

My love for you

like an umbrella:

It protects you from the rain

And getting wet.

Just left it in the corner

As soon as rain ends.

This is such a pity -

you need my love

only when the weather is rainy.

* * *

I see you everywhere,

no matter where I was,

no matter what I did.

Even a drop of water,

falling from the tap

sounds like your voice ...

* * *

The collapse of love -

As the disintegration of the atom.

We disagree,

Like protons and neutrons,

And is born

Colossal energy...

For what purpose

use it?

* * *

Love

leaves

like the plane,

ascent to heaven.

White line of smoke

like a scar

remains behind.

That scar

the sky is cut

into two halves..

The sky becomes one

when the love

will disappear.

* * *

I've set up my heart,

as a radio receiver,

at the wave of your love.

But instead of music

I heard a noise:

rustling, creaking, crackling ...

When

In your sky

Stop a storm of passion?

* * *

Your eyelashes -

As ears of wheat:

Among them are created

Bread happiness.

Your eyelashes -

Likes oars

sinking

in the sea of blue ...

On these oars

I'm floating in the sky,

Strait bread rains

In your eyes!

* * *
We walked into a storm

On the banks of the great river.

The birch trembled,

like nerve circuit.

I was worried:

What will you answer

my declaration of love?

But the lightning in the sky,

likes autograph of God,

joined our feelings

stronger signature

in the marriage certificate.
* * *

Like a fish

I grabbed the bait

Of your promises

And became a victim of love ...

Now I live

In the aquarium

Of our shared flat,

But I still do not know:

You caught me

Or I caught you?

* * *

I'm jealous of the wind
For what he embraced you,

But I can't understand:
Why the wind
Embraces you,

And gives me only a slap?

* * *

Hatred exists
According to the laws of direct perspective:

The closer to the person
The more evident shortcomings

Love obey
Only the reverse perspective:

The further away from me darling,
The more and more beautiful
Her soul...

* * *

You Wake up
Next to me.
Look at the sunrise in the window,
Spilling hair over your shoulders.
So appears,

As if waking from a long sleep,

The poem ...

* * *

When I meet you,

I am in my heart

translated arrow

With anguish to joy.

Arrow passed around the circle

And returned to the separation of "separation" ...

Dear,

Do not forget to switch back!

***

You are my museum.

I come into your life,

To enjoy the beauty of the world.

You are my pocket Louvre

Where the main hall

Is the Happiness ...

What a pity

I came through there without a ticket!
* * *

I - statue of Love,
I'm in love with the man.

I want to confess his love,

But I can not move ...

On a pedestal

Engraved with the word "Love"

It's a pity

what is not written, the one I love ........

* * *

You see that I'm worried
And want to rush into these waves,
But I'm not a river.

You see that I пылаю,
And you want to keep warm from me,
But I'm not a fire.

You see that I shine for joy,
And you like to fly to me
But, I am not the sun.

When you see me as a person?

* * *

The hands on the clock appointed date

At midnight.

Twelve hours they waited for each other

And finally met!

"We stay together forever," -

said thick slow clockwise.

"No, we leave before noon"

aughed bony minute hand

And she went.

But their brief meeting

was born

one moment of happiness ...

The theory of relativity love

Outside the window the rain

заштриховывает space.

Time changes color,

as a lantern-chameleon outside the window,

to become like

the color of her eyes.

Space crumpled,

as a sheet

on my bed,

where there is none.

The night was like an eternity.

It ended with a revival.

I can only watch

for the window,

where the rain wants to become nothing,

that is - me.

* * *

In all,

That surrounds me

You live.

Even tear,

Which trickling down my cheek,

Draws your silhouette...

* * *

When I miss you,

I ready

Peel the skin

From the wall of my room,

But even there

Was written in chalk

Your name...

* * *

My favorite!

I give you a hand.

You read my destiny

On перекрестиям lines.

The line of palm -

As roads,

That is racing time

Chase my love...

* * *

Your eyes

Speak the same dialect,

Smile at the other,

Hair - on the third.

I understand one

Their sophisticated languages

And I can explain

As the eyes can be angry,

And lips laugh

At the same time.

I am a translator,

Translating from all dialects your face

To the language of the heart

Song of your love.

Dream

I dreamed

That I'm in a huge explosion

Split into atoms.

These atoms

Once again became molecules

Molecule - motes

Stones,

Plants,

People...

And one of my atoms,

Speck of dust

In the hot solar beam,

Flew into the window,

Behind which stood a woman

And froze on her lips...

And I understood:

Even atoms

Can love.

* * *

I told you sweet words,

But they just touching you,

Spreading,

Like a blind rain on your skin.

But the sticky leaves

From the rain

Freed from the kidneys;

Blossomed

Adhesive, transparent words

At the spring tree,

Which is -

You!

* * *

She said

That she has a little bit of tenderness

To me.

So star says

That she has a little light.

So surf wave says

That she has a bit of coolness.

Star doesn't say that she has universe

Wave does not say that she has a sea

She doesn't say that she has young body.

* * *

You sleep,

Wrapped in white Holiness.

I can't sleep, -

I listen to your heart.

And between us

Brighter inflames

the future...

Flood

Like new Noah,

I for a long time sailing

On the ocean of my lonely tears.

As pigeons, I produced poems

Seek refuge,

But they came back.

I wandered half of your life

While through the storm not sailed

at the coast of your body,

where your Breast is Ararat...

* * *

We got married in the temple,

But in a sign of love

Instead of the rings

exchanged sensitive hearts.

And from this moment on

we're all alone.

And like a flower between two pages of the book,

I dormant

between your Breasts...

Marriage of book and flower,

Marriage of flower and book

is eternal.

* * *

From love to the sky -

Distance of outstretched line.

You came in,

Silently undressed

In front of the mirror my hands.

Chest your Matures in my hands,

Like the fruit of the time,

And eyes from now on we don't need:

We see each other all over,

we feel the Love all of our nature.

At a word boundary and happiness

Full handfuls I drink

The moisture of fertile trues

of your body.

I had twenty years,

To understand what you

Explained to me instantly

Power of your disembodied nakedness.

* * *

Through darkness of pulsating blood

fly birds and stars.

Stillness and the storm

merged in my soul.

My Palms took the shape

Women's Breasts.

Your hair pierced the air,

Collecting space in the site.

In the your hair

Confused stars.

And our bodies

Cleanse the space of the world

For pure feeling,

Which is older than the stones of the Kremlin.

***

I kissed your lips ,

I kissed your soul .

And every kiss

Ripped in you

As a nail - in the palm .

You gave me everything

Even

I prefer you

my love for you.

But as Stigmat,

My love undepleted

Bleeding in you.

***

It is very painful - to say " sorry ." Let's talk

About nothing : it is easier to understand

Each other. You know ,

there is no time to cry. Now is the time to say goodbye.

Soon you will be happy again .

Autumn comes , dust

Swirl in the sunset , and the roads

call me . Maybe

Someday we will see each other again and know ourselves ,

maybe we can be friends or come to love.

And now silently watch rotation

Dust ...

3. THE MUSIC SLAPPING

***

I shared my happiness with others ,

As children are divided

orange slices .

This part is for parents

This part - for friends,

This - for girls ...

For me there was one peel .

Apparently,

I know the theory of happiness ,

Like a pig - oranges.

***

I am a doctor .

In my hand

trembling the pulse of the era.

I count the beats

One, two, three ...

This is bad :

the era is sick tachycardia.

Of the disease

There is only one remedy -

Conscience !

But what

If no conscience

At any drugstore?

***

In the big city

Living poet .

Thus, darkness living in a cave,

In the darkness lives the silence,

And in the silence song is born .

But the poet never reads people

his poems .

only occasionally

He goes to the wall

And draws a chalk on the wall

the letter " D. "

No one understands

What does this sign .

And nobody knows

That at the moment

When the poet draws the letter " D"

For someone in

Death comes .

It is poetry .

The rest is

Poetic liberties.

I have nothing more to say about the poet .

It's a pity ...

***

The wooden house

feels shame of his tenants.

He squinted .

Its roof is leaking.

Its windows are dirty.

Residents are sleeps

Although the children did not dine .

The house don't sleep -

He feels sorry for the hungry children.

First internally broken host and hostess

then broke support of the building.

Do not be a mistake if they fall

With the whole country?

The girl from the bank

Her more than thirty years.

Every day she comes to work in a bank in time,

Sitting at the window

And explaining the people the law

Finance rotation in nature.

Now she listens to a young man

With brown eyes

And a mole on his right cheek

And trying to detain him at the window just a minute more.

But the time, which leads to aging,

Do not stop just ...

***

Old woman

Sitting on a bench

at the door of the house

quietly mending their lives,

How torn sock.

In the the needle

she put the time

like thread

And slowly

knitted from yarn sunlight

Seventy

rough and gray

years.

But whether this yarn

warm someone's soul?

We grandmother

No relatives ...

***

Everyday

He reads the newspaper layout

And strikes wrong.

Only occasionally

He shudders

And missing letters

In the word "Love."

For seven days

He had been in the hospital.

He called someone

And thought

Strange numbers.

His mother wept at his bedside.

All people seen it.

His story will never be published in the newspaper.

Planned life

He wanted to stay on schedule

and calculated their lives,

as a working day

of teachers at school.

He appointed time

To the lessons of wisdom,

honesty,

courage.

He waited,

when the disciples come to him.

Students missed all the lessons.

Love came alone.

And Happiness came too late.

It was late

for one life.

Teacher

Fifteen minutes later,

begin the lesson.

She tries to write on the blackboard

Topic of the lesson.

Suddenly she felt a terrible pain.

Thought collapses

As chalk, between the toes.

It's cancer ...

But the kids are waiting for the lesson.

She wakes up,

Corrects Points

And sits at the table.

God just made a mistake:

Posted in dictation "Life"

"Trouble" instead of "victory."

And the teacher, as usual,

Forgives bad students ....

Veteran

He sits on a bench

At the entrance to my home

In the whole day.

He put on Soviet shirt

And old jeans of his grandson.

During the war

He said goodbye to the family home,

To protect it.

Defended -

He sat down at the door.

He wasn't allowed home

Or he didn't want to enter?

He doesn't answer

And sitting at the door of the house

Within days

Precipitated silence.

***

He sits at the large stone walls,

blinks

And holding a tin can.

In jar snow falls

Instead of alms.

He sits and waits:

Suddenly, next stop machine,

God in a gorgeous coat

will come out of the car

and throw in a jar

a few coins ...

* * *

He stands

At the crossroads

And talking by eyes:

Winks to lovers,

Zoom business people: "stop",

Gives to workers

A moment of respite.

His third eye

As red label

On the forehead of the Indian God.

He is

God city street

And a poet .

Who is he?

Traffic light!

* * *

Once

I noticed from the window of a crowd of people

And photographed her.

The girl in the crowd was high,

Beautiful,

Blond

And the black-eyed.

From that time

I am constantly looking at the image

To feel

Loneliness grains of sand

On the sea coast.

Thief

He sits in the armchair of the head of a large firm.

He earned a seat on the law of the sea,

Because the thief should sit.

What is war?

War is not only bullets,

It isn'n just the thunder of cannon,

It isn't only destroyed city.

War is the exchange

wedding ring

donated husband

for a loaf of bread.

Pacifist poems

* * *

My soldiers of my army are heroes.

The soldiers of your army are heroes.

They know how to die

And how to kill.

History laugh at this

And awards soldiers

Unnecessary medals

For useless heroism.

* * *

From immemorial time

Soldiers say one thing

But the wounds of soldiers says another.

When the troops go to war,

Soldiers sing

but the old wounds cry.

When the troops are fighting,

The soldiers shout,

but wounds burn.

When the war ends,

The soldiers are silent,

Leaving the speaking to the rest,

And the wounds are tell.

The wounds tell about all.

* * *

One unknown functionary

When he stood on earth,

the chair seemed unnecessary to him.

When he got up and sat down in the chair,

Unnecessary to him seemed the whole earth!

* * *

He was playing with friends in childhood,

Fearing parents.

Studied in school,

Fearing teachers.

He worked in the firm,

Fearing the boss.

And once

Looked in the mirror poetry,

He saw myself

And immediately

died...

The music slapping

Sometimes victory and defeat

are change places.

Applause

can be

just a slap,

which one arm

give the other,

and slap

can be

the applause -

beautiful Symphony

for hands

and the person.

From the sounds of this Symphony

awakens the conscience.

A brief history of mankind

For millennia

Humankind fights

Against the war

through wars.

The epidemic of death

On television reported

About the death of thousands of people

From nuclear radiation

The number was so great

That crushed me

At a distance

Nobody knows

That I, too, was among the dead

Crisis

In Brussels hosts an international meeting

In Paris discussing a new love scandal

in Greece occured the demonstrations and strikes

in China builded a new plant automobile production

in Hollywood making a thousand first blockbuster

about the end of the world

in Africa thousands of people die

from hunger

from typhoid

from Kalashnikov

from Western diplomacy

in Moscow to discussed the problems of impossible colonization of the moon

(from the earth wait for nothing)

on the street in the Siberian city

a beggar

under the snow

was freezing his legs

it hurts but it's not funny

he does not ask for help

because there is nobody to help him

and all this on the Ground

on the third planet from the sun

through thousands of years after the crucifixion of Christ

(God knows when)

A solemn appeal to the void

...And it is

our present,

where is the conscience is leased

the wisdom is a mousetrap for men,

dolls is managed by puppeteer

and the painter writes a still-life with your neighbor!

I don't want to live in this century.

I don't live today.

Come tomorrow.

Island

Among the vast ocean

There was one small island.

In this island lived only one person.

He has one house,

One field,

One life

And one death.

In this island

Wasn't states

And wasn't war

I dream

that the whole world

has become such a small island.

* * *

In the chest of the prophet-

burning coal

instead of the heart.

And prophet burn hearts of people

by his coal-verbs.

Sometimes the prophet so want

its verbs

warm the hearts of people!

But from the fire of creativity

you can burn,

but you can't get warm.

An instructive case

When Napoleon

was napoleonized

and became Emperor,

he didn't know

that two hundred years ago

we will call cakes

and crazy

by his name.

* * *

He lost his favorite

and become extremely sensitive:

he heard,

as the flowers grow,

as the insect moving,

as falling stars singing.

Once

he was deafened

by that noise.

He fell,

Hearing the roar

of the collapsing world.

Who would have thought, -

Said the driver after that.

He himself is to blame:

Not heard of my tone.

Such a beautiful guy

And deaf, like a block of wood.

* * *

I lie on the clouds

I am drinking nectars

and eating the fruits from the tree of life.

Only sometimes I look down:

there the Prince

crying over my skull

and laugh

two undertaker.

Reincarnation 1

after the death of

I will be envelope

in me put someone's soul

like a letter

I'll tremble in the bag with the letters

I"ll lay in a coffin

mailbox

where I'll be lonely

worst of all

loneliness of a letters

that nobody reads

Reincarnation 2

Autumn leaves

beating on the porch of the temple,

but the wind

again and again

knocking them back.

It is souls of suicides...

Between...

Between man

and his death

some smallness,

just two words:

"I love" -

with the dots...

Blessed field

In distant blessed fields

you'll see the boy

he has your face, smile and hair

In distant blessed fields

you'll see their parents

they have your eyes soul and gait

In distant blessed fields

you'll see your beloved woman

she has your voice and your heart

In distant blessed fields

you will see the most beautiful dreams

and nobody will Wake

fear not

because there is nobody and nothing

* * *

My eyes,

Do not lose strength,

Perhaps you will see a new earth.

My hands,

Carry your burdens

Perhaps you ever support the sky.

My feet,

Steadfastly,

Perhaps you get there, where all the roads.

My words,

Do not lose your life,

Perhaps you to breathe life into someone's soul.

My thoughts,

Do not stop doubt

Perhaps you have something to prove that all this

Impossible.

The prayer of the prophet

God,

You know the truth,

Tell me, how to understand it -

And not go crazy!

* * *

After closing every door -

Fatigue

After rising on each stair -

Fatigue

After each stop on the way -

Fatigue

Man

Life

Love

Death

Fatigue

Fatigue

Fatigue.

4. DANCING ON THE RAKE

Dancing on the rake

Life experience

measured by the number of rakes,

on which people come.

I usually

stepping on other rakes,

learned from others' mistakes,

but looking for my,

the unique

rakes.

How much rake in the world!

What a great way to go me!

I go further - -

to multiply life experience...

* * *

When I left my father's house,

Mother gave me a shirt,

and sewed in sleeve her sadness.

Father gave me a heavy purse

With his care about the money.

My grandfather gave me watches

And his fear to waste the time.

The days are passed.

My purse is empty. Watches are broken. The shirt is torn...

Became I happier? No!

But I began to look ridiculous!

But I still go forward.

But all the roads again bring to the house...

Why?

The second "I" are different

I had a few different "I":

I am a man,

I am a student

I am a poet...

One of these

Gone from me.

It will come back like a prodigal son

and knocked at the door to me,

barely breathing...

I ask:

"Who are you?"

"I am I ... well, that is - you!"

"How can I be behind the door when I'm at home?"

The second "I" will be angry

And will burst through the door.

I will not let him go in my home -

Is he thief suddenly?

The second "I" spit on yourself

And go far away...

And through the day unknown thief

Come to me and say:

"I am You, let me in your home!",-

And I will believe him!

My words to himself

I am closed yearly cycle.

Years of life are trembling behind,

Like cardboard wings.

Well, let's summarize.

You look in the mirror -

And it is covered with dust

From boredom.

That's nothing,

Until you're not as old as your soul

Approximately five years ago

the mirror will cry in front of you.

Yes, a time will cry about you too.

Your favorite woman

Now is lost in humanity.

You warmed himself near her

All these years. She was the sky,

That you could touch by telescopes of fingers.

Your hands and lips in the dark

Seemed traces of her touch.

Earth worried, as your body,

From the touch of her feet.

Now - she become the light,

But you can't know where it is,

And can't see where the light.

* * *

My memory of you

so like

the last ray of sunset.

I remember this:

He played upon my face,

and touched my hands,

Not wanting to leave.

The sun was calling him on his way.

When you come back,

A little warm ray,

Lying in my hand?

My hands, leather and soul

Remember each beam,

touched their...

* * *

When a person is ill,

He engaged in tug of war.

The rope named "life"

passes from the hands of death

In hands of men.

Men trying

to get their hands

as much as possible

years of life,

Strained, as rope.

Therefore, diseases

This is also a sport,

Requiring a lot of strength.

* * *

Life, you are not my sister,

you are the nurse.

You can treat me through poetry,

amputate my sorrow,

Enter me the anesthetic named "fearlessness".

You put on my forehead endless sky,

like a compress.

Your job is not easy:

you must healing my soul

from cowardice and hypocrisy...

Yes,

life is difficult profession.

If...

If the chick for the first time flies

Bird-mother becomes winged doubly.

If winter comes,

River hide blue eyes

Through the glass of ice.

If life forgets about death,

Love starts to sing.

If the death falls in love with life,

Life goes numb from fear.

Memory of my grandfather

1

Two weeks he lay on his bed,

Skinny like a skeleton,

And not eat:

His stomach began himself to food

Deadly tumor.

He did not sleep,

But tried not to moan at night,

Not to Wake us up.

And he died,

When I was not at home:

I offered my hand and heart

Girl with a disability,

Передвигавшейся on crutches.

Forgive me, Lord...

2

For the first time in two weeks

This summer night

I hear behind the wall

His moans.

But I can't sleep .

As hot...

...Only now I felt

That night smelles the hot sun.

3

I stood

Above the mortal bed of my grandfather,

Straightening

Like an exclamation point.

Grandfather was lying,

Decreased after death,

Motionless

As the point.

Kin

Walked behind the coffin,

Like ellipses.

And the only Words -

Of those, the most important,

That all would be able to explain -

Was not...

In the face of death

We -

Punctuation

Without words.

Fashionable death

I have long been

loved to think about death.

I wore death,

as a fashionable hat,

with the call.

Someone thought:

"Behold the man!",

and someone thought:

"That's stupid!"

But, when I met with my love,

I took off the hat, -

and it became clear

that hair under her

turned white.

* * *

I am the Apple tree in the old garden.

My heart is Ripe Apple,

which hanging on a branch.

Soon

a woman picks it

And say:

"Try Apple, my Adam!"

And they will divide my soul into slices...

Then the people will go.

Forever.

And I'll be whole life to stand alone,

And Someone,

Having come up to me in silence

Will stood and wept,

Clenching by his old fingers

my dried leaves...

7. QUESTION-POETRY

God,

If we are Your poems,

Who reads us?

God,

Which heaven is above:

Over happy

Or over the miserable?

God,

Me without You

Heavier than You without my.

God,

I am a stigmata on Your hand.

Why are You not lechish me?

God,

My soul closely in my life.

Is it possible to go for a stroll?

God,

You gave me the sixth sense,

But bring back the previous five!

God,

You know the truth,

Tell me, how to understand it -

And not go crazy!

God,

When love leaves us,

Where she lives?

God,

Who lives instead me,

When I sleep?

God,

To be human is work

Or reward?

God,

When a person more lonely:

when he born or dying?

God,

When we don't prayed to You,

you're feeling bored?

God,

You're everywhere.

So, You're in hell too?

God,

When I look at the sun,

Sun sees me?

God,

are to be sad the eyes

of my poems?

God,

It is difficult - to be God?

Don't you get tired?

God,

Who loves to water the flowers more:

Gardener or rain?

God,

If I go insane,

How can I forgive my enemies?

God,

That is harder:

cry through the eyes

or through the soul?

God,

Why life is so bitter:

that to die was not sorry?

God,

If I die,

Will you cry?

God,

What moment in Your life

Is the best?

God,

You won't be bored with me?

God,

If I become ridiculous

will you smile?

God,

Why us

given talents,

if they even bury nowhere?

God,

If I wasn't a fighter,

can I to be

the battleground?

God,

Why is nature

Gave us a mind -

and don't given protection against him?

God,

Why be given to me in happiness

but I don't know what to do with it?

God,

than I learned to speak with You,

Heal me

From prayers!

Silence.

8. FORMULISMES

(the formulas of exact science about inaccurate things)

Man

is the arithmetic average of

between God and infusorium.

God

is a man

multiplied by the sky.

Sky

Is a filled by soul distance

between the men and the star.

The soul of man

is a sky

packaged in the body of the monkey.

Inspiration

is a breath of fresh air,

raised to the power of fate.

Destiny

is plane of events

on which it is impossible to draw a line.

Biography

is the perimeter of life.

Love

is the movement of light

with the speed of feelings.

Life

is the cardiogram of love

with many high points

and no lower point.

Death

is absolutely neutral environment

starting everywhere

and not кончающаяся nowhere.

Sheet with verses

is a Fig leaf,

covering the nakedness of the soul.

Mirror

it is a vertically frozen time

whish rose like a wall

in front of our face.

Cloud

is a condensation of the sky.

Sea

is a former sky,

the reset to the ground

for excessive blue.

Forest

is a sky

fallen whith rain

and sprouted through the earth.

Candle

is a fixed vertically

prayer.

Memory

is life,

whish is folded, like roulette.

Mind

is the fruit of the time,

guess is the rind of the fruit,

error is his bitter seeds.

Boredom

this is a patch

closing the wounded soul

from the touch of God.

Philosopher

is a mollusk:

solid skeleton of thoughts

it outside

and soft soul

the inside.

Poet

is vertebral animal:

from the outside he is soft and vulnerable,

but inside he is invincible.

Clever phrase

is stupid

that was said at the right time.

Memory

is conserved life.

Wisdom

is ability to properly

to deceive yourself.

Lie

it's true,

whish turned inside out

like a glove.

Glory

is is an honorable form of shame.

Vice

is a teasing good by evil.

Boredom

it refrigerator,

where life

longer remains from damage.

People in old age

is a special Museum,

The feelings and events

are his exhibits.

Creativity

is a work,

every vacation with which

payable by the officer.

Consolation in grief

is a gypsum

for broken destiny.

Conscience

is Appendix of the human soul:

she seems useless for us,

but God forbid,

to sick the conscience!...

A trained conscience

is the beast in circus

who can escape from the cage

but not be able to live in the wild.

Pride

is cosmetics for the soul:

traits from it do not improve

but seem sweeter -

from afar.

Habit

is anesthesia for feelihgs:

it prevents feel pain

but prevents feel the joy too.

Life

is school,

in which honors

dream stay for a second year

as long as possible.

Sage,

embodying the ideas in life,

is prompter,

released on the scene

instead of an actor.

Happiness

is sleeping pills for the soul:

a small dose is soothes,

but the big dose is poisonous.

Friendship

is a game of give-away:

the more we give to a friend

the more chance we have of success.

Victory

is the culinary dish,

which is nice to eat,

but it is difficult to digest.

Defeat

is the dish

whish have unpleasant taste,

But very useful.

The study of life-

is a peepers

with a mirror.

9. POETRY OF SATIETY AND HUNGER

* * *

My errors

Is a drop in the sea

of human errors.

My victories

is a drop in the sea

of human achievements.

My life -

is a drop in the sea

of human lives.

But looking at the sunset

Above the sea

I realized:

Just one drop

And the sea would not be the sea,

And the earth would not be the ground.

* * *

I am a glass,

Transparent with two sides.

With one hand

I was approached by God,

On the other daemon.

God saw the demon.

Demon saw God.

They hit each other,

Breaking me

On the splinters.

Who will now be able to

Glue me

Of these fragments?

The agenda of conscience

...And come January,

as the letter comes

in the mailbox.

I read it,

but I can't understand the words,

written by white stylus snow

on white paper of the sky.

But all around -

roofs, cars, roads -

written

by the high hand

that would not write me more,

if I did not answer

on this email -

the first agenda

to the court of conscience.

Conscience

1

Conscience, are you tormenting me.

Forgive me for it.

I know,

that is not so are you tormenting me,

as I love you.

2

The scariest thing in life

this phantom pain

an amputated conscience.

* * *

My profession is to say "goodbye".

Since childhood I

filter the life by dry eyes.

Not wanting to repeat the mistakes of others,

I prefere to do new ones.

I paid shameful title

of innocence shild

for the right to be a man.

I watched disinterest,

as my years

arrived at the shore in a glass of beer.

I become the poet -

the cripple

in the native language.

Then I burned all the papers whis poems

from fear to die under them.

Only one thing remains:

go through the eye of a needle

of oblivion...

* * *

I take a spoon

and write into a plate

full of tasty metaphors

song of my life.

I write the phrases,

which cleared to everyone,

over faience.

It is the poetry of satiety,

written by a spoon.

And someone in the same time

looking at the empty plate

and rings spoon

into the walls

of plate.

It is the Nabat of hunger.

The mystery of the clock mechanism

arrow escaped from hours

together with them the time run

they are looking for a new home

they decided to infiltrate into the man

swim through his veins

get to the heart

and there spinning in a circle

as a result, man

began to work as a clock

and soon be rusted, like a clock

* * *

My poetry is my home.

In my poems my parents,

friends

and girlfriend

are live.

In this house has all,

What you need for comfort.

But I went out there,

Because I'm tired

to lock poetry on key

when I leaving the house,

To restore order in my poetry

to disrupt the order

in my head,

And to pay for light,

Electricity

And heating of poetry.

Anyone can live in my house now.

I opened poetry for all.

* * *

According to the ancient tradition

I wrote poetry with blood,

not with ink.

Today I came to give blood

by tests,

and in my veins

instead of blood

were ink.

* * *

I couldn't make out wings

of feathers, which can write poetry.

All my life I collected feathers,

which fallen from other people's poetry wings,

and made my wings own.

Feathers is strangers,

but wings is my:

I pasted them with my blood.

* * *

What is the difference

between the poet

of the common man?

This like a difference between the cabriolet

from a regular car:

A complete absence of the roof!

Poet

like a faucet:

he is hot or cold.

Muse can cope with the poet,

but he - not a gift for Muse.

And, if the poet burst

and verses fly spray, like the water,

threatening to flood the neighboring Muzes,

don't save without a skilled plumber

with critical thinking!

* * *

The birth of a poem

As the birth of a child:

Often for the newborn verse

Easier to find the name,

Than patronymic...

* * *

Once

In the world was born

A new word.

Somebody dropped him on the street,

And the children began to play with him,

like with a toy.

then a housewife take him,

shaken out of the dust,

as of blankets,

washed

and hung in the yard

to dry.

There the word caught up wind

And the word flown in the window

To cook.

He sprinkled him pepper of irony

and salt of sadness

And coated with sauce of gossip.

The merchant bought a dish,

Weighed on the scales

Attaching a price tag

And put on display.

The word has changed,

But in the word left something

That is not reduced to the spices,

That is not to sell showcases

And not knock out a mallet.

Because word

like a person...

* * *

I wanted to be a poet.

But I didn't know

How to do this.

I was stationary,

As the empty bowl in the closet.

My voice turned sour milk.

But I decided to completely change self.

I twisted heart inside out.

I was looking for poetry

in the recesses of the brain convolutions.

I curved ridge as onions,

And shot dream to the heaven.

Blew away the dust from memory.

The thought slipped on sweat

that has arisen on my forehead.

And my teeth, sky, lips felt the chill of the native language.

But poetry was a bubble,

Which blushed with shame for me,

Swelled up and burst.

I changed myself to be somebody.

But becoming someone can only a man

who is himself.

* * *

I am a sculptor.

I created a beautiful statue,

Exhibited it in the Museum,

Heard the praise -

And broke it.

People ask me:

Why?

Because your liked my sculpture

And not need it's Creator...

My name and I

My name

Accompanies me

From birth.

As mother's milk,

It remains on my lips.

I can to protect myself using his name

from the rain,

as an umbrella,

wear it like a fur coat,

get them water as a bucket.

But still -

It isn't me.

Children will remember my name,

But probably will forget

My traits, habits, soul...

It's so difficult

To lead litigation with my name

For the right

To own their own life.

Immortality

My soul

stuck in a poem,

like a fly -

in a transparent amber.

Amber was once the resin -

perhaps infernal...

My soul trembled in it,

then froze -

and I became immortal.

Now she is a particle shop,

like a fly,

that could become a jewel

as could be killed

by tail of a dinosaur.

Newspaper and life

I accommodate my life

in the poem,

wrote a poem

on a newspaper sheet,

but a sheet

the wind carried on the ground.

Each person

may step on this piece of paper,

leaving in the my life

trace of his boots.

Now my manuscript

is garbage.

But this

was a life...

The difficulties of translating from the idiotic into English

I studied this life,

as a foreign language.

I never learned to speak.

I stand alone

among the crowd of strangers

for me to unknown land.

If I already knew Esperanto,

I could tell something the people..

But I am silent.

All the land around myself is the stranger.

Why do I have talent

when I can neither use

nor even to bury them?