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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Night

Night to me became hated
– Presses memories a fog,
Expectation has hung,
Laughter slides the deceptive.
Night of love brings thoughts
Also teases voobrazhene.
Also draws, as if a brush,
Eye liked otrazhene.

1994

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