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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Hopelessness

In two hours – a dawn,
Through three I will fall asleep, perhaps,
Through five – a harbinger of troubles
New day will come the insignificant.
Through seven – will blow up fire
The fear, that will grow day into an epoch,
Through twenty – stop, do not touch!
To me, I hope, will be on ….

1995

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