Poems

The poem always was for me the form of expression of feelings. In two-three stanzas finds room much – the overflowing emotions asking on will of thought, impetuous passion. Not having possibility to give vent to this all on a paper, for a long time would descend suma from an overabundance of feelings. And so – anything, it was possible to consult. Improbably it would be desirable, not spending, certainly, not deserved analogies to repeat thereupon Sergey Yesenin's words: «as to other autobiographical data, - they in my verses».

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Imprisonment

Outside of me
The rivers of fishes, fields of colours,
Patches of light of star fire,
The sky dark blue a cover.
At me – one flower,
In bank fresh water.
The arch pale a scrap
Yes mute wires.

1996

 

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