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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Rupture

- To spit! – on what?
– For time, For tired movements,
On blood blows in a cinciput
And on thought naprjazhene.
- I can not! – that? – To Believe,
That have left prikosnovenja,
That around one losses.
It is inaccessible to me zabvene.
- Calm down, time to treat.
- Can be. From oshchushchenja
Its hands on a flexible body,
But memory, vlechene
Will not leave. Pray, people,
That you so did not throw,
And farewell those who likes:
Nearby to be – any more it is not enough. 

1995

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08.05.2007 23:08 it is mad, class, very much vpechetljaet!
Anna


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