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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Pain you bear and ozhidane...

* * *

Pain you bear and ozhidane,
You cut silly words,
Grief you give, you repair stradanja,
You iron lying hands.
Keep silent, I know the price
Both to words, and kisses.
I will leave, while live,
That itself to remain in vain.
I can play with you,
I can be silent and listen.
Bodies sudboju are weaved,
But I will leave soul.

1995

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