# Man says...

Андрей Вячеславович Козырев

Книга стихов на английском языке.

MAN SAYS


free verses


* * *


Man says


that he was dying from hunger,


and immediately


people are brewed porridge for he.


Man says


that he was dying of thirst


and immediately


water rises him to her throat.


Man says


that he was dying from the cold


and immediately


people around are begin to play with fire.


Man says...


1. BIOGRAPHY OF HAPPINESS


* * *


It will happen one day:


Children, fleeing with the lesson,the


Run into open space


And in the evening


Bring us a gift -


A piece of sky


In the frame of the Martian clay.


And after that


They взвалят the sky on his shoulders


And will assign to the river,


To wash.


And then -


Children will declare war to the death


And seize the Kingdom of the dead


With wooden swords,


To listen to the stories grandfathers


The long-flew lives.


It will happen one day...


* * *


I asked the child:


"Paint the sky"-


He painted bird


In the empty space.


I said:


"Draw the life"


He drew a crowded circus.


I asked:


"Draw itself" -


He took a picture with the crowd in the circus


And put the point.


* * *


Children play


With cars


And airplanes.


They launch


Airplane in the sky,


Hoping,


That the deceased Pope


Throw it back.


They direct


The machine over the horizon,


Hoping,


That dead mother


Returns the machine.


The plane returned.


And the car too.


And mom and dad are not...


My first enemy


I have not seen his face,


I only saw the hand


with dirty fingers


in a narrow window.


It was closed as a soldier in the tank


He thought money -


Usher,


not wanted to give me,


eight-year child,


tickets to the circus.


What is happiness


When he was a child,


Mom made him


Brush your teeth


Morning and evening,


That he hated.


He grew up,


A grown-up


Then old.


Teeth rotted and fallen.


He realized:


This is happiness.


Biography of happiness


One morning


In heaven


Born happiness.


It first turned into the sun,


Then rays вплелось in a braid girl,


Then it became a ripple on the surface of the river.


After that it bright view


Set in the eyes of the blind,


But he washed the happiness of the eye,


As a mote.


Then it sunbeams jumped my window


And was this poem.


* * *


It is interesting


How many trees


It was destroyed,


To make a


A million copies


Book


About the benefits of forests?


* * *


In the afternoon of palm Sunday


Mom touched my shoulder


Willow sprig,


So I was not sick.


I told her the same,


Keeping an ancient custom.


Then I noticed


As the branch of a willow


In my window


Just the same


Stroking the sky,


So it would not hurt...


* * *


The sun


is reflected


In every Dewdrop in spring garden.


A person going through the garden,


tramples underfoot the grass,


destroying worlds,


reflected in dewdropes.


But whose foot


entered


over it?


God fishing


Rainbow


as a lure,


dropped from the clouds.


On the spoon,


as bait, -


dreams of happiness...


And we grab a spoon


not knowing


that God gets us


for the aquarium


that is called -


Paradise.


Three poems about the rain


1


Spring rain


Slap me in the face,


And in his jets - water drops


From the Atlantic ocean


Off the coast of America.


I catch language


Drops Of The Atlantic


And understand:


During the spring rain


we are all


a little Columbs!


2


Drops of rain


Beating their heads against the ground


As the heroine of old tales,


But never turn


In the fairy.


But they watered the roots of the trees,


To branches


Steel daughter


In green robes.


3


Rains grow like trees:


Seeds drops


Grow long stalks,


Only they stretch


Not up and down.


Their roots are in the sky,


And crown land.


And the angels of heaven


See the trees


Upside down...


The Earth and I


Earth hurtles through the universe ...


But I'm scared:


it does not support,


no insurance.


And when I feel


that my soul rushes


from love to hatred,


as the Earth in its orbit,


finding no support -


I console myself:


Do not worry,


Earth is also experiencing difficulties.


* * *


Water drops


Frustrated with the end of icicles


And fall to the ground.


The sound of dripping


is the metronome,


Saying that spring alive


In the city, besieged


Troops of winter.


* * *


Month


Is a huge horseshoe


Nailed to the sky


to lure happiness.


But she nailed crookedly,


so may our happiness -


crooked


And wrong ...


* * *


I blindfolded spring trees


Green handkerchief foliage


And hid himself from them,


But they immediately


Found me.


I blindfolded autumn river


White handkerchief ice


And hid,


But the river find me


In the spring.


I blindfolded sun


Gray scarf clouds,


But it had received his sight


From the wind blows -


And found me.


Then I blindfolded his anguish


Smile


And she hadn't found me,


Because I hid from boredom


In the love.


Life water


Rowed through whirlpools


becoming drops couple


Coming ordeal in the air,


Falling from the sky with tears of rain,


becoming an icicle


And having lost the ability to shower


water


Thousands of sparkling diamond faces


Rushes from the roof


Upside down ...


It is spring.


Split of personality


In my head


Lives a man,


Laughing, when I cry,


Crying, when I laugh,


Silent when I say


Singing when I am silent.


And only when I'm in love


He is in love with too.


Me hard with him,


But my enemies,


And my friends


Love and hate in me


this man.


His name


Is Youth!


2. LOVE IS LIKE AN UMBRELLA


The impossible is possible!


Man can do it all:


write a poem without words,


write a music without notes,


attach each Russian flea


Chinese-made horseshoes,


exchange all Russian words


for dollars,


get a job dead


in the comfort mausoleum,


Nike of Samothrace attach head


and lose his own head in love with her


A man can not just one:


To live without love!


Love of the kettle


Kettle sings like a Bedouin.


Fire on a gas burner


declaration of love


water.


Water, shaken by the sudden recognition


raises clouds of steam.


This is love:


first - a sudden burst of fire,


then-much ado about nothing,


and end-all evaporates!


Declaration of love


You're my way


Where any fatigue


Goes courage


Any loss


Enters purchase,


Any rotation


There is a turn to yourself,


And any word


Is a Declaration of love.


Password of love


I came on a date


And knocked on her door.


"Who's there? - she asked.


It is I, your favorite, " I said.


She did not open the door


I knocked again


"Who's there? - she asked.


"It is YOU knock to yourself"-


I replied, -


And the door immediately opened


The benefits of reading fairy tales


Every frog


dreams of becoming a Princess


and wants


to kissing her.


Each Princess


afraid again become a frog,


what will happen


as soon as her kissed.


But people dream to kiss the princess


Men always kiss those who should not...


Read fairy tales,


to better understand life!


In love I am Einstein


1


I am trying to create


a theory of relativity


love feelings


I understand:


hard to be


in the fields of attraction A


of two girls


simultaneously


I can't walk


until his main love


straight


and justify


curvature of space


2


it is impossible to understand


who is the boss in the family:


husband or wife


from the change of place of lovers


in family life


all depends


3


In Informatics of love


the most difficult


to find password


to someone else's heart


and understand


its interface


if a constant memory


too small


't help


no hacker


4


I do


main actions


arithmetic of love


the love


folded with hatred


gives a negative value


the love


multiplied by hatred


gives zero


love


from which is deducted hatred


independent unit,


not finds himself a pair of


love


divided by hatred


zero


gives infinity


5


grammar of love


has its own laws:


their management,


approval,


combination


their inclination:


imperative


the accusatory


and exonerating


don't want to learn


I want to marry


Old new fairy tale


I said: "I love you".


You laughed,


And your laughter sounded in the silence


like the crunch of a broken mirror...


And shards of laughter, -


Mirrors, repel us, -


Stuck us in heart.


We realized:


According to accept,


Love,


Will haunt us


At least seven more years.


Heart- bluffer


I'm waiting for you.


My heart


Knocking louder


So I identified it knock


with your knock on the door


And calmed down.


Typical randomness


I'll go with you


On a crowded street.


We are happy.


But nobody's paying attention!


Only the blind beggar


Suddenly grabbed me by the sleeve -


"Submit a living!"


Is it accident?


Robinson of love


You're always alone


as the only


desert island


Where I'm not alone.


* * *


How to connect


Incompatible feelings:


I love you


because I see in you a riddle,


And you me


because I understand you...


Sometimes mutual love


most to be undivided:


It cannot be


Divided into two parts


Equally.


* * *


If you stop loving me,


I am drown oneself


In your blue eyes.


Will you forget me,


But someday


I find it with an aqualung


At the bottom of the


Your deep eyes...* * *


The sorrow of the separation -


like a mosquito:


buzzing in the ears, without ceasing,


then bite...


Pain is almost there,


but the itch is unbearable!


* * *


Suppose you left me,


Love still lives in things


left you.


Mirror askance:


they have not seen you.


Your red shawl


Bent so that he can not breathe:


he suffers


Because you have forgotten it.


Cup from which you drink,


crashed


for me to be back soon happiness!


Cup, mirror, handkerchief ...


They soured.


But if you throw them away


They love will disappear!


Love as an umbrella


My love for you


like an umbrella:


It protects you from the rain


And getting wet.


Just left it in the corner


As soon as rain ends.


This is such a pity -


you need my love


only when the weather is rainy.


* * *


I see you everywhere,


no matter where I was,


no matter what I did.


Even a drop of water,


falling from the tap


sounds like your voice ...


* * *


The collapse of love -


As the disintegration of the atom.


We disagree,


Like protons and neutrons,


And is born


Colossal energy...


For what purpose


use it?


* * *


Love


leaves


like the plane,


ascent to heaven.


White line of smoke


like a scar


remains behind.


That scar


the sky is cut


into two halves..


The sky becomes one


when the love


will disappear.


* * *


I've set up my heart,


as a radio receiver,


at the wave of your love.


But instead of music


I heard a noise:


rustling, creaking, crackling ...


When


In your sky


Stop a storm of passion?


* * *


Your eyelashes -


As ears of wheat:


Among them are created


Bread happiness.


Your eyelashes -


Likes oars


sinking


in the sea of blue ...


On these oars


I'm floating in the sky,


Strait bread rains


In your eyes!


* * *

We walked into a storm


On the banks of the great river.


The birch trembled,


like nerve circuit.


I was worried:


What will you answer


my declaration of love?


But the lightning in the sky,


likes autograph of God,


joined our feelings


stronger signature


in the marriage certificate.

* * *

Like a fish


I grabbed the bait


Of your promises


And became a victim of love ...


Now I live


In the aquarium


Of our shared flat,


But I still do not know:


You caught me


Or I caught you?


* * *

I'm jealous of the wind

For what he embraced you,

But I can't understand:

Why the wind

Embraces you,

And gives me only a slap?

* * *

Hatred exists

According to the laws of direct perspective:

The closer to the person

The more evident shortcomings


Love obey

Only the reverse perspective:

The further away from me darling,

The more and more beautiful

Her soul...

* * *

You Wake up

Next to me.

Look at the sunrise in the window,

Spilling hair over your shoulders.

So appears,


As if waking from a long sleep,


The poem ...

* * *

When I meet you,


I am in my heart


translated arrow


With anguish to joy.


Arrow passed around the circle


And returned to the separation of "separation" ...


Dear,


Do not forget to switch back!


***


You are my museum.


I come into your life,


To enjoy the beauty of the world.


You are my pocket Louvre


Where the main hall


Is the Happiness ...


What a pity


I came through there without a ticket!

* * *

I - statue of Love,

I'm in love with the man.


I want to confess his love,


But I can not move ...


On a pedestal


Engraved with the word "Love"


It's a pity


what is not written, the one I love ........

* * *

You see that I'm worried

And want to rush into these waves,

But I'm not a river.

You see that I пылаю,

And you want to keep warm from me,

But I'm not a fire.

You see that I shine for joy,

And you like to fly to me

But, I am not the sun.

When you see me as a person?

* * *

The hands on the clock appointed date


At midnight.


Twelve hours they waited for each other


And finally met!


"We stay together forever," -


said thick slow clockwise.


"No, we leave before noon"


aughed bony minute hand


And she went.


But their brief meeting


was born


one moment of happiness ...


The theory of relativity love


Outside the window the rain


заштриховывает space.


Time changes color,


as a lantern-chameleon outside the window,


to become like


the color of her eyes.


Space crumpled,


as a sheet


on my bed,


where there is none.


The night was like an eternity.


It ended with a revival.


I can only watch


for the window,


where the rain wants to become nothing,


that is - me.


* * *


In all,


That surrounds me


You live.


Even tear,


Which trickling down my cheek,


Draws your silhouette...


* * *


When I miss you,


I ready


Peel the skin


From the wall of my room,


But even there


Was written in chalk


Your name...


* * *


My favorite!


I give you a hand.


You read my destiny


On перекрестиям lines.


The line of palm -


As roads,


That is racing time


Chase my love...


* * *


Your eyes


Speak the same dialect,


Smile at the other,


Hair - on the third.


I understand one


Their sophisticated languages


And I can explain


As the eyes can be angry,


And lips laugh


At the same time.


I am a translator,


Translating from all dialects your face


To the language of the heart


Song of your love.


Dream


I dreamed


That I'm in a huge explosion


Split into atoms.


These atoms


Once again became molecules


Molecule - motes


Stones,


Plants,


People...


And one of my atoms,


Speck of dust


In the hot solar beam,


Flew into the window,


Behind which stood a woman


And froze on her lips...


And I understood:


Even atoms


Can love.


* * *


I told you sweet words,


But they just touching you,


Spreading,


Like a blind rain on your skin.


But the sticky leaves


From the rain


Freed from the kidneys;


Blossomed


Adhesive, transparent words


At the spring tree,


Which is -


You!


* * *


She said


That she has a little bit of tenderness


To me.


So star says


That she has a little light.


So surf wave says


That she has a bit of coolness.


Star doesn't say that she has universe


Wave does not say that she has a sea


She doesn't say that she has young body.


* * *


You sleep,


Wrapped in white Holiness.


I can't sleep, -


I listen to your heart.


And between us


Brighter inflames


the future...


Flood


Like new Noah,


I for a long time sailing


On the ocean of my lonely tears.


As pigeons, I produced poems


Seek refuge,


But they came back.


I wandered half of your life


While through the storm not sailed


at the coast of your body,


where your Breast is Ararat...


* * *


We got married in the temple,


But in a sign of love


Instead of the rings


exchanged sensitive hearts.


And from this moment on


we're all alone.


And like a flower between two pages of the book,


I dormant


between your Breasts...


Marriage of book and flower,


Marriage of flower and book


is eternal.


* * *


From love to the sky -


Distance of outstretched line.


You came in,


Silently undressed


In front of the mirror my hands.


Chest your Matures in my hands,


Like the fruit of the time,


And eyes from now on we don't need:


We see each other all over,


we feel the Love all of our nature.


At a word boundary and happiness


Full handfuls I drink


The moisture of fertile trues


of your body.


I had twenty years,


To understand what you


Explained to me instantly


Power of your disembodied nakedness.


* * *


Through darkness of pulsating blood


fly birds and stars.


Stillness and the storm


merged in my soul.


My Palms took the shape


Women's Breasts.


Your hair pierced the air,


Collecting space in the site.


In the your hair


Confused stars.


And our bodies


Cleanse the space of the world


For pure feeling,


Which is older than the stones of the Kremlin.


***


I kissed your lips ,


I kissed your soul .


And every kiss


Ripped in you


As a nail - in the palm .


You gave me everything


Even


I prefer you


my love for you.


But as Stigmat,


My love undepleted


Bleeding in you.


***


It is very painful - to say " sorry ." Let's talk


About nothing : it is easier to understand


Each other. You know ,


there is no time to cry. Now is the time to say goodbye.


Soon you will be happy again .


Autumn comes , dust


Swirl in the sunset , and the roads


call me . Maybe


Someday we will see each other again and know ourselves ,


maybe we can be friends or come to love.


And now silently watch rotation


Dust ...


3. THE MUSIC SLAPPING


***


I shared my happiness with others ,


As children are divided


orange slices .


This part is for parents


This part - for friends,


This - for girls ...


For me there was one peel .


Apparently,


I know the theory of happiness ,


Like a pig - oranges.


***


I am a doctor .


In my hand


trembling the pulse of the era.


I count the beats


One, two, three ...


This is bad :


the era is sick tachycardia.


Of the disease


There is only one remedy -


Conscience !


But what


If no conscience


At any drugstore?


***


In the big city


Living poet .


Thus, darkness living in a cave,


In the darkness lives the silence,


And in the silence song is born .


But the poet never reads people


his poems .


only occasionally


He goes to the wall


And draws a chalk on the wall


the letter " D. "


No one understands


What does this sign .


And nobody knows


That at the moment


When the poet draws the letter " D"


For someone in


Death comes .


It is poetry .


The rest is


Poetic liberties.


I have nothing more to say about the poet .


It's a pity ...


***


The wooden house


feels shame of his tenants.


He squinted .


Its roof is leaking.


Its windows are dirty.


Residents are sleeps


Although the children did not dine .


The house don't sleep -


He feels sorry for the hungry children.


First internally broken host and hostess


then broke support of the building.


Do not be a mistake if they fall


With the whole country?


The girl from the bank


Her more than thirty years.


Every day she comes to work in a bank in time,


Sitting at the window


And explaining the people the law


Finance rotation in nature.


Now she listens to a young man


With brown eyes


And a mole on his right cheek


And trying to detain him at the window just a minute more.


But the time, which leads to aging,


Do not stop just ...


***


Old woman


Sitting on a bench


at the door of the house


quietly mending their lives,


How torn sock.


In the the needle


she put the time


like thread


And slowly


knitted from yarn sunlight


Seventy


rough and gray


years.


But whether this yarn


warm someone's soul?


We grandmother


No relatives ...


***


Everyday


He reads the newspaper layout


And strikes wrong.


Only occasionally


He shudders


And missing letters


In the word "Love."


For seven days


He had been in the hospital.


He called someone


And thought


Strange numbers.


His mother wept at his bedside.


All people seen it.


His story will never be published in the newspaper.


Planned life


He wanted to stay on schedule


and calculated their lives,


as a working day


of teachers at school.


He appointed time


To the lessons of wisdom,


honesty,


courage.


He waited,


when the disciples come to him.


Students missed all the lessons.


Love came alone.


And Happiness came too late.


It was late


for one life.


Teacher


Fifteen minutes later,


begin the lesson.


She tries to write on the blackboard


Topic of the lesson.


Suddenly she felt a terrible pain.


Thought collapses


As chalk, between the toes.


It's cancer ...


But the kids are waiting for the lesson.


She wakes up,


Corrects Points


And sits at the table.


God just made a mistake:


Posted in dictation "Life"


"Trouble" instead of "victory."


And the teacher, as usual,


Forgives bad students ....


Veteran


He sits on a bench


At the entrance to my home


In the whole day.


He put on Soviet shirt


And old jeans of his grandson.


During the war


He said goodbye to the family home,


To protect it.


Defended -


He sat down at the door.


He wasn't allowed home


Or he didn't want to enter?


He doesn't answer


And sitting at the door of the house


Within days


Precipitated silence.


***


He sits at the large stone walls,


blinks


And holding a tin can.


In jar snow falls


Instead of alms.


He sits and waits:


Suddenly, next stop machine,


God in a gorgeous coat


will come out of the car


and throw in a jar


a few coins ...


* * *


He stands


At the crossroads


And talking by eyes:


Winks to lovers,


Zoom business people: "stop",


Gives to workers


A moment of respite.


His third eye


As red label


On the forehead of the Indian God.


He is


God city street


And a poet .


Who is he?


Traffic light!


* * *


Once


I noticed from the window of a crowd of people


And photographed her.


The girl in the crowd was high,


Beautiful,


Blond


And the black-eyed.


From that time


I am constantly looking at the image


To feel


Loneliness grains of sand


On the sea coast.


Thief


He sits in the armchair of the head of a large firm.


He earned a seat on the law of the sea,


Because the thief should sit.


What is war?


War is not only bullets,


It isn'n just the thunder of cannon,


It isn't only destroyed city.


War is the exchange


wedding ring


donated husband


for a loaf of bread.


Pacifist poems


* * *


My soldiers of my army are heroes.


The soldiers of your army are heroes.


They know how to die


And how to kill.


History laugh at this


And awards soldiers


Unnecessary medals


For useless heroism.


* * *


From immemorial time


Soldiers say one thing


But the wounds of soldiers says another.


When the troops go to war,


Soldiers sing


but the old wounds cry.


When the troops are fighting,


The soldiers shout,


but wounds burn.


When the war ends,


The soldiers are silent,


Leaving the speaking to the rest,


And the wounds are tell.


The wounds tell about all.


* * *


One unknown functionary


When he stood on earth,


the chair seemed unnecessary to him.


When he got up and sat down in the chair,


Unnecessary to him seemed the whole earth!


* * *


He was playing with friends in childhood,


Fearing parents.


Studied in school,


Fearing teachers.


He worked in the firm,


Fearing the boss.


And once


Looked in the mirror poetry,


He saw myself


And immediately


died...


The music slapping


Sometimes victory and defeat


are change places.


Applause


can be


just a slap,


which one arm


give the other,


and slap


can be


the applause -


beautiful Symphony


for hands


and the person.


From the sounds of this Symphony


awakens the conscience.


A brief history of mankind


For millennia


Humankind fights


Against the war


through wars.


The epidemic of death


On television reported


About the death of thousands of people


From nuclear radiation


The number was so great


That crushed me


At a distance


Nobody knows


That I, too, was among the dead


Crisis


In Brussels hosts an international meeting


In Paris discussing a new love scandal


in Greece occured the demonstrations and strikes


in China builded a new plant automobile production


in Hollywood making a thousand first blockbuster


about the end of the world


in Africa thousands of people die


from hunger


from typhoid


from Kalashnikov


from Western diplomacy


in Moscow to discussed the problems of impossible colonization of the moon


(from the earth wait for nothing)


on the street in the Siberian city


a beggar


under the snow


was freezing his legs


it hurts but it's not funny


he does not ask for help


because there is nobody to help him


and all this on the Ground


on the third planet from the sun


through thousands of years after the crucifixion of Christ


(God knows when)


A solemn appeal to the void


...And it is


our present,


where is the conscience is leased


the wisdom is a mousetrap for men,


dolls is managed by puppeteer


and the painter writes a still-life with your neighbor!


I don't want to live in this century.


I don't live today.


Come tomorrow.


Island


Among the vast ocean


There was one small island.


In this island lived only one person.


He has one house,


One field,


One life


And one death.


In this island


Wasn't states


And wasn't war


I dream


that the whole world


has become such a small island.


* * *


In the chest of the prophet-


burning coal


instead of the heart.


And prophet burn hearts of people


by his coal-verbs.


Sometimes the prophet so want


its verbs


warm the hearts of people!


But from the fire of creativity


you can burn,


but you can't get warm.


An instructive case


When Napoleon


was napoleonized


and became Emperor,


he didn't know


that two hundred years ago


we will call cakes


and crazy


by his name.


* * *


He lost his favorite


and become extremely sensitive:


he heard,


as the flowers grow,


as the insect moving,


as falling stars singing.


Once


he was deafened


by that noise.


He fell,


Hearing the roar


of the collapsing world.


Who would have thought, -


Said the driver after that.


He himself is to blame:


Not heard of my tone.


Such a beautiful guy


And deaf, like a block of wood.


* * *


I lie on the clouds


I am drinking nectars


and eating the fruits from the tree of life.


Only sometimes I look down:


there the Prince


crying over my skull


and laugh


two undertaker.


Reincarnation 1


after the death of


I will be envelope


in me put someone's soul


like a letter


I'll tremble in the bag with the letters


I"ll lay in a coffin


mailbox


where I'll be lonely


worst of all


loneliness of a letters


that nobody reads


Reincarnation 2


Autumn leaves


beating on the porch of the temple,


but the wind


again and again


knocking them back.


It is souls of suicides...


Between...


Between man


and his death


some smallness,


just two words:


"I love" -


with the dots...


Blessed field


In distant blessed fields


you'll see the boy


he has your face, smile and hair


In distant blessed fields


you'll see their parents


they have your eyes soul and gait


In distant blessed fields


you'll see your beloved woman


she has your voice and your heart


In distant blessed fields


you will see the most beautiful dreams


and nobody will Wake


fear not


because there is nobody and nothing


* * *


My eyes,


Do not lose strength,


Perhaps you will see a new earth.


My hands,


Carry your burdens


Perhaps you ever support the sky.


My feet,


Steadfastly,


Perhaps you get there, where all the roads.


My words,


Do not lose your life,


Perhaps you to breathe life into someone's soul.


My thoughts,


Do not stop doubt


Perhaps you have something to prove that all this


Impossible.


The prayer of the prophet


God,


You know the truth,


Tell me, how to understand it -


And not go crazy!


* * *


After closing every door -


Fatigue


After rising on each stair -


Fatigue


After each stop on the way -


Fatigue


Man


Life


Love


Death


Fatigue


Fatigue


Fatigue.


4. DANCING ON THE RAKE


Dancing on the rake


Life experience


measured by the number of rakes,


on which people come.


I usually


stepping on other rakes,


learned from others' mistakes,


but looking for my,


the unique


rakes.


How much rake in the world!


What a great way to go me!


I go further - -


to multiply life experience...


* * *


When I left my father's house,


Mother gave me a shirt,


and sewed in sleeve her sadness.


Father gave me a heavy purse


With his care about the money.


My grandfather gave me watches


And his fear to waste the time.


The days are passed.


My purse is empty. Watches are broken. The shirt is torn...


Became I happier? No!


But I began to look ridiculous!


But I still go forward.


But all the roads again bring to the house...


Why?


The second "I" are different


I had a few different "I":


I am a man,


I am a student


I am a poet...


One of these


Gone from me.


It will come back like a prodigal son


and knocked at the door to me,


barely breathing...


I ask:


"Who are you?"


"I am I ... well, that is - you!"


"How can I be behind the door when I'm at home?"


The second "I" will be angry


And will burst through the door.


I will not let him go in my home -


Is he thief suddenly?


The second "I" spit on yourself


And go far away...


And through the day unknown thief


Come to me and say:


"I am You, let me in your home!",-


And I will believe him!


My words to himself


I am closed yearly cycle.


Years of life are trembling behind,


Like cardboard wings.


Well, let's summarize.


You look in the mirror -


And it is covered with dust


From boredom.


That's nothing,


Until you're not as old as your soul


Approximately five years ago


the mirror will cry in front of you.


Yes, a time will cry about you too.


Your favorite woman


Now is lost in humanity.


You warmed himself near her


All these years. She was the sky,


That you could touch by telescopes of fingers.


Your hands and lips in the dark


Seemed traces of her touch.


Earth worried, as your body,


From the touch of her feet.


Now - she become the light,


But you can't know where it is,


And can't see where the light.


* * *


My memory of you


so like


the last ray of sunset.


I remember this:


He played upon my face,


and touched my hands,


Not wanting to leave.


The sun was calling him on his way.


When you come back,


A little warm ray,


Lying in my hand?


My hands, leather and soul


Remember each beam,


touched their...


* * *


When a person is ill,


He engaged in tug of war.


The rope named "life"


passes from the hands of death


In hands of men.


Men trying


to get their hands


as much as possible


years of life,


Strained, as rope.


Therefore, diseases


This is also a sport,


Requiring a lot of strength.


* * *


Life, you are not my sister,


you are the nurse.


You can treat me through poetry,


amputate my sorrow,


Enter me the anesthetic named "fearlessness".


You put on my forehead endless sky,


like a compress.


Your job is not easy:


you must healing my soul


from cowardice and hypocrisy...


Yes,


life is difficult profession.


If...


If the chick for the first time flies


Bird-mother becomes winged doubly.


If winter comes,


River hide blue eyes


Through the glass of ice.


If life forgets about death,


Love starts to sing.


If the death falls in love with life,


Life goes numb from fear.


Memory of my grandfather


1


Two weeks he lay on his bed,


Skinny like a skeleton,


And not eat:


His stomach began himself to food


Deadly tumor.


He did not sleep,


But tried not to moan at night,


Not to Wake us up.


And he died,


When I was not at home:


I offered my hand and heart


Girl with a disability,


Передвигавшейся on crutches.


Forgive me, Lord...


2


For the first time in two weeks


This summer night


I hear behind the wall


His moans.


But I can't sleep .


As hot...


...Only now I felt


That night smelles the hot sun.


3


I stood


Above the mortal bed of my grandfather,


Straightening


Like an exclamation point.


Grandfather was lying,


Decreased after death,


Motionless


As the point.


Kin


Walked behind the coffin,


Like ellipses.


And the only Words -


Of those, the most important,


That all would be able to explain -


Was not...


In the face of death


We -


Punctuation


Without words.


Fashionable death


I have long been


loved to think about death.


I wore death,


as a fashionable hat,


with the call.


Someone thought:


"Behold the man!",


and someone thought:


"That's stupid!"


But, when I met with my love,


I took off the hat, -


and it became clear


that hair under her


turned white.


* * *


I am the Apple tree in the old garden.


My heart is Ripe Apple,


which hanging on a branch.


Soon


a woman picks it


And say:


"Try Apple, my Adam!"


And they will divide my soul into slices...


Then the people will go.


Forever.


And I'll be whole life to stand alone,


And Someone,


Having come up to me in silence


Will stood and wept,


Clenching by his old fingers


my dried leaves...


7. QUESTION-POETRY


God,


If we are Your poems,


Who reads us?


God,


Which heaven is above:


Over happy


Or over the miserable?


God,


Me without You


Heavier than You without my.


God,


I am a stigmata on Your hand.


Why are You not lechish me?


God,


My soul closely in my life.


Is it possible to go for a stroll?


God,


You gave me the sixth sense,


But bring back the previous five!


God,


You know the truth,


Tell me, how to understand it -


And not go crazy!


God,


When love leaves us,


Where she lives?


God,


Who lives instead me,


When I sleep?


God,


To be human is work


Or reward?


God,


When a person more lonely:


when he born or dying?


God,


When we don't prayed to You,


you're feeling bored?


God,


You're everywhere.


So, You're in hell too?


God,


When I look at the sun,


Sun sees me?


God,


are to be sad the eyes


of my poems?


God,


It is difficult - to be God?


Don't you get tired?


God,


Who loves to water the flowers more:


Gardener or rain?


God,


If I go insane,


How can I forgive my enemies?


God,


That is harder:


cry through the eyes


or through the soul?


God,


Why life is so bitter:


that to die was not sorry?


God,


If I die,


Will you cry?


God,


What moment in Your life


Is the best?


God,


You won't be bored with me?


God,


If I become ridiculous


will you smile?


God,


Why us


given talents,


if they even bury nowhere?


God,


If I wasn't a fighter,


can I to be


the battleground?


God,


Why is nature


Gave us a mind -


and don't given protection against him?


God,


Why be given to me in happiness


but I don't know what to do with it?


God,


than I learned to speak with You,


Heal me


From prayers!


Silence.


8. FORMULISMES


(the formulas of exact science about inaccurate things)


Man


is the arithmetic average of


between God and infusorium.


God


is a man


multiplied by the sky.


Sky


Is a filled by soul distance


between the men and the star.


The soul of man


is a sky


packaged in the body of the monkey.


Inspiration


is a breath of fresh air,


raised to the power of fate.


Destiny


is plane of events


on which it is impossible to draw a line.


Biography


is the perimeter of life.


Love


is the movement of light


with the speed of feelings.


Life


is the cardiogram of love


with many high points


and no lower point.


Death


is absolutely neutral environment


starting everywhere


and not кончающаяся nowhere.


Sheet with verses


is a Fig leaf,


covering the nakedness of the soul.


Mirror


it is a vertically frozen time


whish rose like a wall


in front of our face.


Cloud


is a condensation of the sky.


Sea


is a former sky,


the reset to the ground


for excessive blue.


Forest


is a sky


fallen whith rain


and sprouted through the earth.


Candle


is a fixed vertically


prayer.


Memory


is life,


whish is folded, like roulette.


Mind


is the fruit of the time,


guess is the rind of the fruit,


error is his bitter seeds.


Boredom


this is a patch


closing the wounded soul


from the touch of God.


Philosopher


is a mollusk:


solid skeleton of thoughts


it outside


and soft soul


the inside.


Poet


is vertebral animal:


from the outside he is soft and vulnerable,


but inside he is invincible.


Clever phrase


is stupid


that was said at the right time.


Memory


is conserved life.


Wisdom


is ability to properly


to deceive yourself.


Lie


it's true,


whish turned inside out


like a glove.


Glory


is is an honorable form of shame.


Vice


is a teasing good by evil.


Boredom


it refrigerator,


where life


longer remains from damage.


People in old age


is a special Museum,


The feelings and events


are his exhibits.


Creativity


is a work,


every vacation with which


payable by the officer.


Consolation in grief


is a gypsum


for broken destiny.


Conscience


is Appendix of the human soul:


she seems useless for us,


but God forbid,


to sick the conscience!...


A trained conscience


is the beast in circus


who can escape from the cage


but not be able to live in the wild.


Pride


is cosmetics for the soul:


traits from it do not improve


but seem sweeter -


from afar.


Habit


is anesthesia for feelihgs:


it prevents feel pain


but prevents feel the joy too.


Life


is school,


in which honors


dream stay for a second year


as long as possible.


Sage,


embodying the ideas in life,


is prompter,


released on the scene


instead of an actor.


Happiness


is sleeping pills for the soul:


a small dose is soothes,


but the big dose is poisonous.


Friendship


is a game of give-away:


the more we give to a friend


the more chance we have of success.


Victory


is the culinary dish,


which is nice to eat,


but it is difficult to digest.


Defeat


is the dish


whish have unpleasant taste,


But very useful.


The study of life-


is a peepers


with a mirror.


9. POETRY OF SATIETY AND HUNGER


* * *


My errors


Is a drop in the sea


of human errors.


My victories


is a drop in the sea


of human achievements.


My life -


is a drop in the sea


of human lives.


But looking at the sunset


Above the sea


I realized:


Just one drop


And the sea would not be the sea,


And the earth would not be the ground.


* * *


I am a glass,


Transparent with two sides.


With one hand


I was approached by God,


On the other daemon.


God saw the demon.


Demon saw God.


They hit each other,


Breaking me


On the splinters.


Who will now be able to


Glue me


Of these fragments?


The agenda of conscience


...And come January,


as the letter comes


in the mailbox.


I read it,


but I can't understand the words,


written by white stylus snow


on white paper of the sky.


But all around -


roofs, cars, roads -


written


by the high hand


that would not write me more,


if I did not answer


on this email -


the first agenda


to the court of conscience.


Conscience


1


Conscience, are you tormenting me.


Forgive me for it.


I know,


that is not so are you tormenting me,


as I love you.


2


The scariest thing in life


this phantom pain


an amputated conscience.


* * *


My profession is to say "goodbye".


Since childhood I


filter the life by dry eyes.


Not wanting to repeat the mistakes of others,


I prefere to do new ones.


I paid shameful title


of innocence shild


for the right to be a man.


I watched disinterest,


as my years


arrived at the shore in a glass of beer.


I become the poet -


the cripple


in the native language.


Then I burned all the papers whis poems


from fear to die under them.


Only one thing remains:


go through the eye of a needle


of oblivion...


* * *


I take a spoon


and write into a plate


full of tasty metaphors


song of my life.


I write the phrases,


which cleared to everyone,


over faience.


It is the poetry of satiety,


written by a spoon.


And someone in the same time


looking at the empty plate


and rings spoon


into the walls


of plate.


It is the Nabat of hunger.


The mystery of the clock mechanism


arrow escaped from hours


together with them the time run


they are looking for a new home


they decided to infiltrate into the man


swim through his veins


get to the heart


and there spinning in a circle


as a result, man


began to work as a clock


and soon be rusted, like a clock


* * *


My poetry is my home.


In my poems my parents,


friends


and girlfriend


are live.


In this house has all,


What you need for comfort.


But I went out there,


Because I'm tired


to lock poetry on key


when I leaving the house,


To restore order in my poetry


to disrupt the order


in my head,


And to pay for light,


Electricity


And heating of poetry.


Anyone can live in my house now.


I opened poetry for all.


* * *


According to the ancient tradition


I wrote poetry with blood,


not with ink.


Today I came to give blood


by tests,


and in my veins


instead of blood


were ink.


* * *


I couldn't make out wings


of feathers, which can write poetry.


All my life I collected feathers,


which fallen from other people's poetry wings,


and made my wings own.


Feathers is strangers,


but wings is my:


I pasted them with my blood.


* * *


What is the difference


between the poet


of the common man?


This like a difference between the cabriolet


from a regular car:


A complete absence of the roof!


Poet


like a faucet:


he is hot or cold.


Muse can cope with the poet,


but he - not a gift for Muse.


And, if the poet burst


and verses fly spray, like the water,


threatening to flood the neighboring Muzes,


don't save without a skilled plumber


with critical thinking!


* * *


The birth of a poem


As the birth of a child:


Often for the newborn verse


Easier to find the name,


Than patronymic...


* * *


Once


In the world was born


A new word.


Somebody dropped him on the street,


And the children began to play with him,


like with a toy.


then a housewife take him,


shaken out of the dust,


as of blankets,


washed


and hung in the yard


to dry.


There the word caught up wind


And the word flown in the window


To cook.


He sprinkled him pepper of irony


and salt of sadness


And coated with sauce of gossip.


The merchant bought a dish,


Weighed on the scales


Attaching a price tag


And put on display.


The word has changed,


But in the word left something


That is not reduced to the spices,


That is not to sell showcases


And not knock out a mallet.


Because word


like a person...


* * *


I wanted to be a poet.


But I didn't know


How to do this.


I was stationary,


As the empty bowl in the closet.


My voice turned sour milk.


But I decided to completely change self.


I twisted heart inside out.


I was looking for poetry


in the recesses of the brain convolutions.


I curved ridge as onions,


And shot dream to the heaven.


Blew away the dust from memory.


The thought slipped on sweat


that has arisen on my forehead.


And my teeth, sky, lips felt the chill of the native language.


But poetry was a bubble,


Which blushed with shame for me,


Swelled up and burst.


I changed myself to be somebody.


But becoming someone can only a man


who is himself.


* * *


I am a sculptor.


I created a beautiful statue,


Exhibited it in the Museum,


Heard the praise -


And broke it.


People ask me:


Why?


Because your liked my sculpture


And not need it's Creator...


My name and I


My name


Accompanies me


From birth.


As mother's milk,


It remains on my lips.


I can to protect myself using his name


from the rain,


as an umbrella,


wear it like a fur coat,


get them water as a bucket.


But still -


It isn't me.


Children will remember my name,


But probably will forget


My traits, habits, soul...


It's so difficult


To lead litigation with my name


For the right


To own their own life.


Immortality


My soul


stuck in a poem,


like a fly -


in a transparent amber.


Amber was once the resin -


perhaps infernal...


My soul trembled in it,


then froze -


and I became immortal.


Now she is a particle shop,


like a fly,


that could become a jewel


as could be killed


by tail of a dinosaur.


Newspaper and life


I accommodate my life


in the poem,


wrote a poem


on a newspaper sheet,


but a sheet


the wind carried on the ground.


Each person


may step on this piece of paper,


leaving in the my life


trace of his boots.


Now my manuscript


is garbage.


But this


was a life...


The difficulties of translating from the idiotic into English


I studied this life,


as a foreign language.


I never learned to speak.


I stand alone


among the crowd of strangers


for me to unknown land.


If I already knew Esperanto,


I could tell something the people..


But I am silent.


All the land around myself is the stranger.


Why do I have talent


when I can neither use


nor even to bury them?