Varvara
Once
May 20, 2015
Once
Suppose
You've spent your life
The study of creativity
Some of the great writer.
Carefully analyzed his book:
System of characters,
The commonality of plot conflicts
And so on.
From the standpoint of a scientist
Included even in his family squabbles
And been evaluated by a quarrel with his wife.
And here it turned out
With cogency,
One day...
(Lord,
Support,
If it comes
"One day",
All diligent and modest
Historians and theologians)
...That the image of the great writer
Hoax.
It just wasn't there.
He was fictional,
And the books are assembled like a mosaic.
Your world is falling apart.
Sitting on the grass,
Squandered fingering
Yellow corollas of dandelions,
You senselessly repeat:
"What is it? How can this be?"
And Apple blossom soothing whispers:
"Nothing, somehow. Still - spring..."
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I draw cherry blossoms
May 12, 2015
I draw cherry blossoms
I draw a cherry blossom,
Not forgetting about the details.
White petals, long stamens
With tiny gold beads
At the ends.
Comes out very similar.
Circle swirl fires.
I, not paying attention,
Paint white cherry
On a dark purple background.
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Aching eyes from the sun
Apr 30, 2015
Aching eyes from the sun
I aching eyes from the sun.
And aching heart
At the thought of enemies
Lurking in the underground.
I catch in the camera lens
Butterfly-chocolate
And limonite,
And the first green leaves.
I hide electronic notebook
And compose awkward sad melody,
About all of this.
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Icy wind
Apr 26, 2015
Icy wind
Icy wind
Sweeps violets.
Birds fall silent.
Icy wind
Is piles of garbage.
Debris is flying through the city dump.
This is all planned by the dwarfs
Damn dwarfs
With buttons for eyes.
Spring doesn't want to join the fray.
She hides behind a cloud.
I look at last year's
Photos of violets.
And my dream is to unpick the buttons,
While collecting trophies.
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