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Forcing March 8 …

Kategori: Ukategorisert | 0 kommentarer » - Skrevet Wednesday 8. April , 2015 kl. 09:27

Forcing March 8 …

l18

 

Write me a letter
I do not believe the calls and visits
The time is coming
Get even a little debt
Even if the rains,
Even if it comes late
Write me what you love,
And if you do not like – Lie
Write me what you love,
And if you do not like – Lie

Write me now
Do not delay, before dawn.
Like a dead bird,
Lie on the ground of the city
Write me a letter,
even if you do not want to answer
Write me a letter
even if you do not remember where
Write me a letter
even if you do not remember where

I forgot about everything
I wander for weeks at a time.
On the Garden Ring
Like a sail in the wilderness starless
Renounce yourself
Write me any lie
Write me a letter
Write .. write … write.
Write me a letter
Write .., write, write ….

A.Tsvetkov

 

l3

l5

l6

l4

l7

l8

l9

l10

l11

l12

l13

As much as I lived with this woman ?!
For it would be without any bravado
I would head even folded,
What is more difficult balladry!
As much as I lived with this woman!

Dove resigned yesterday gods
I had not listened to the dubious gossip
And I would give her everything is rich,
And she would have got everything than I am poor!
As much as I lived with this woman!

And for her, not knowing guilt,
What can you do such years.
I just watched from the sidelines.
How stupidly lived with her other!
As much as I lived with this woman ?!

But one day, I’m still lucky.
Helps me clean power!
Woman handed me the key,
Realized called, beckoned,
As much as I lived with this woman!

And now, not in dreams, waking,
Not in visions of the night, but in fact,
How do I live with this woman?
Yes, as a bastard, his eyes had not looked!

Valery Pak

l14

What’s in a name?
It will die as a sad noise
Waves splashed ashore in the future,
Like the sound of the night in the woods deaf.

It is on handouts
Leave a trail of dead, like
Tombstone inscriptions pattern
In an incomprehensible language.

What’s in it? Forgotten for a long time
In the excitement of the new and rebellious,
Your heart will not allow it
Memories of pure, gentle.

But in the day of trouble, in silence,
Say his yearning;
Say there is a memory of me,
There is the world’s heart, where I live …

Pushkin

l15

 

l17

I was late for you to life,
I was late to you for eternity.
Autumn leaves mirages
I quietly whisper:
– Inevitable.

Annonser

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