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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The page

Page Shezzer behind uselessness is rejected.
To disobey has dared – slide to devils.
Has thought, as something you can?
No, does not excuse anger of great ladies.

He now. Without sensitive pokrovitelstv
Sechet its any dandy a lash.
It is young, but has got tired. Griefs the carrier
Does not remember: it is easier to live, or to die.

It near to it – for vymeshchenja anger,
For dirty humiliating jobs.
It the one who was liked by the queen
It the one for whom the grief to a coffin waits.

There passes night. And the new page happy
Destiny pytaet at its doors.
Still usluzhlivej and more playful,
Still fresh, more youngly and more strongly.

It in it the has enclosed a hand
And with it in a garden wandered to a dawn.
And for it will not be more sweet a flour,
Than tender sights to it to give.

Ah, the poor page, it is not necessary to become presumptuous,
The favour of queens is not durable.
Do not stumble, try not to break.
Idolise to a coffin this bluff!

1996

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24.12.2007 11:23 At the Book of Destiny two sisters - Stanovlene and the Debt.
Three parchments ancient, sobrane images predicted.
Together weaved Choice, Desire, Honour, Whim and Delight -
Three parchments ancient, Runichesky Magic vjazannyh.

Wave, - and the correct steel has cut to pieces parchment.
Wave, - and books have begun to cry porchennoj blood.
Pain, falling down, stynet as a marble stone.
And beaten glass showers that have named love.

Also the thaw has rung out runy empty obsidianovaja,
And kameneet a fog, fading a nephrite on the Threshold.
And the raincoat was already opened by Empress Hel.
And letters, growing stiff, get denser on krovostoke...

And the black acid desert puts a barrier, -
There is no more a Book Live, is nekronomikon.

SHezzer, 1998.
SHezzer Van Der Priist


© Mashkova Irina Vladimirovna, 2007
info@irina.freetzi.com

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