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».

Main | the Forum | Contacts

Life

What is the life?
As it is difficult to find the answer.
For me a life became
In what light is not present.
Heathland of pleasures, desires,
Only one dreams.
Grief molchanja and exiles
You will not cure.
The sense is not present and I do not search
In a rain roar
And eyes at light shchurja
In a shade I disappear.
For what all this nonsense,
Darkness of soul?
Life – not a rest cradle.
For happiness do not search!

1992

To leave a response

Fill, please, all obligatory fields.
Messages can be left not more often, than once 10 minutes.
The text сообщения*
Yours имя*
Yours e-mail
Protective codeEnter this protective code
© Mashkova Irina Vladimirovna, 2007
info@irina.freetzi.com

Super Sexy - hardcore teen porn

Free Web Hosting