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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Song

The rain has begun to sound,
The thunder has cried out,
I on a pan
Knife has taped.

Day was stunned,
The wind has started singing,
I on the moon
To height has departed.

The hailstones have grumbled,
The house has kept silent,
Windows having opened,
I in the sky shouted.

The rain has come to an end,
I have shut a window,
Air has become silent
And with melancholy has presented.

1993

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