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Popular verses by Valentin Gaft
Doesn’t know a silly goby,
What today is a day of execution.
He - like Othello - on a scarf,
But Iago is the one that teases.
And here is the Toreador himself,
How Hamlet came out - a loner,
What will be the sentence?
There is death in him ... and there is a delay.
And those who scream
Are they criminals or judges?
And, oddly enough - this is the court.
And, oddly enough, these are people.
* * *
Flood - there is no worse threat
But there are clear signs of trouble
Lethal water level
When they fall into it - Tears!
* * *
And nothing, and not in one eye,
Everything is scorched, scattered and empty
You can't squeeze a tear from nothing
The River of Souls changed its course.
* * *
What color is the dirt? - Anyone.
The floor can be dirty and the word
Idea, hands, area, tires,
Dirt is an extra touch, and there is no picture.
Dirt in an eternal argument with purity,
And his spirit, stench and thick,
Your stench, ugliness
Mud calls simplicity.
And purity leads to execution
Dirt is the simplicity of killers and executioners.
In the folklore ornament
There is in the false simplicity of her speeches
Deadly sentence.
Mud - simplicity is worse than theft.
Because of people like us who are in love with her,
The silence of the blind majority
It ended with a terrible howl of prisoners.
And so holy simplicity is simple
What, forgetting to put on the mask, the saints,
Open, brazen, with foam at the mouth
Arranges dirty fights.
A dangerous trait is already near
Empty souls distort faces.
Oh eternal earthly simplicity
O eternal earthly Purity
Savior of the world - Beauty,
Come soon, I want to have time to wash myself.
* * *
Already thoughts can not escape.
Drink or sleep, watch or read,
More and more often I remember childhood
Marshmallow Chocolate Paradise.
Father’s belt whistled over his ear with a buckle,
Muffled mother stormy ocean
Boiling eyes whitish lamb,
And the hurricane melted on the nerves.
Father went through the war, he was a military man,
One survivor in the family.
I secretly carried bread to German prisoners,
Accidentally loving his enemies.
Sucked igryki and x
They wondered at school without end,
My forehead and two thieves fixes
There was a solved face formula.
I skipped school in the stadiums
Walking in the cast-iron crowd for a breakthrough
I remember on goal every miss
Forgetting all the other mistakes.
I walk, as before, along the long alley,
The boy is sitting, he will start all over again.
In a hand squeezing a penknife,
On the bench, something cuts about love.
* * *
We walked through the woods, trumpeted about life
And the Queen Christmas tree was cut down under the root,
Then she was inserted into the cross, as if into a throne,
We are building lush funeral days.
But there was no moan and no tears
Snow Maiden sang, Gundel Santa Claus,
And holding hands, cheerful faces
In the morning, they started spinning under the tree.
Ah, if you saw sad stumps,
What a happy day there are!
But the silence ceased, the orchestra fell silent,
For the future Christmas tree, they hid the cross.
We walked through the woods, trumpeted about life ...
* * *
If you lose your word
You will stand before a dead end, -
Run a simple cow
Crowing rooster.
The lines will immediately become easier.
From driving a pen.
The bumps will turn into dots
It will become a comma hole.
Put your forehead in your palm
And from us, from everyone far
Little by little
Wings moved.
And fall before the verses
Secrets of hundreds of thousands of years.
All that hard nights
You anticipated, poet.
No, the pen is in the hands of the poet -
This is not pampering for you.
He is a child, a warm nipple,
But the deity breathes in him.
The connection of time is the connection of light with sound.
How to comprehend this passion?
Poetic flour -
To get into the foggy distance.
Watercolors words composing,
Scalp lifting from silence,
You hear flying away
The sound of a stretched string.
But hovering under the clouds
Quietly celebrate your catch.
We were all fools
There were no poems yet.
* * *
He is not a deer or an ostrich,
And some strange alloy
He is abstraction, he is chaos,
He is a mistake, he is a giraffe.
He is the same mistake
Like a peacock, like an octopus
Like a mosquito, a dog, a fish,
Like Gauguin and like Van Gogh.
In nature in the subconscious
There are many more ideas
And recognition will come to him,
Like to many of the people.
Giraffe -
The Eiffel Tower,
The clouds above your head
And he’s not at all afraid
He is great and dumb.
The best poems by Valentin Gaft
The life curtain has opened
This - Man - was born,
Was fun - Act One,
But when he strangled himself,
Even the light has not dimmed
If only they had an intermission.
* * *
An extinct star flickers past light.
She has long been dead, and we still burn.
Life is sung by the Poet.
You are loved, and I love.
And sun chocolate makeup
We are decorated with hot summers.
... Less and less ahead of our cold winters.
* * *
When the time for a hangover comes
When the due date comes,
The dungeon space will take us
Where a very low ceiling.
A bottle hung under him there,
Like a companion in weightless darkness
And there’s no sense whatsoever,
All meaning remained on the earth.
* * *
The mole has a secret
Known only to him,
He forever seeks the light
Preferring the darkness.
* * *
I build mentally the bridges of their measurements are simple
I build them out of the void
To go where you are.
By bridging the ground,
I never found you
He opened his eyes, and there ... a cliff,
My path is finished, I have come.
* * *
The bow touches the soul
Hardly you to the cello
Or barely touch the violin
Holy moment - do not sin!
In purity, the soul yearns
In that sound is the echo of our torment
The mouthpiece of the pipe is denser to the lips,
Art is like someone blowing!
When such a String is,
And there are Hands, and Inspiration,
There is music, and there is salvation in it,
There Truth is bare
And not spoiled by words
And I want to love and live,
And give everything, and forgive everything ...
It happens with us.
* * *
There are fewer living people in the phone book,
A deadly scythe rings in your ears
Coffin covers are knocking more and more
Aliens answer voices.
But I won’t erase these numbers
And I will never circle the frame.
I’ll find everyone, I’ll call them all,
Wherever they were, in paradise or in hell.
While thrashing and living blithely,
The day-night turns ended.
Now that they didn’t say
Sound like an ellipsis, beeps.
* * *
Everything is concise and concise,
Here is the blade, here is the handle.
Kill them or cleanse them,
He is nothing without our brush.
But if suddenly they hung over him,
Like witchcraft, bad thoughts
And he feels the point of metal
When the sting bubbles inside
Then one body movement -
And the blood washes away the tension
A wave of trembling
The knife weakens in my hand.
Gaft's Beautiful Poems
Dahl goes somewhere far away ...
Do not get lost in the distance.
Important detail:
You are still Dahl, not Dali!
* * *
He lived in the country as a prisoner,
But until the end he wrote with all his trembling veins:
In Russia, genius is the guarantor
For humiliation, executions and for exile.
For honesty, subtlety, tenderness, for pastel
The label was glued to a poet of a different faith,
And Peredelkinskaya white bed
Was covered with blood of a wounded heart.
The serf owner’s cult exposed
But by stigmatizing murders and arrests,
He stood with his fists at the same remote
And he conducted the same with the orchestra.
And the blasphemous finale thundered with tambourines,
Bunches of anger were thrown at the crucified.
Leaving forever, he groaned helplessly,
The last nails were driven into it.
Are there many troubles for a century?
To torture the tortured world,
Where poetic traces lead to paradise
And to hell - traces of killers and escorts.
* * *
Why is the Dog so devoted
And in his love is boundless?
But in the eyes is always a question
Does his master love.
Because someone is sec
Because in the past - a cell!
Because man
He betrayed him often.
I wander the streets
I peer into people’s faces
I'm watching everything now
So that, like the Dog, not to be mistaken.
* * *
On the Scaffold scene, everything is fatal,
The trouble was about to happen
I crossed the border of Mystery
You have to pay for it.
When will come in the midst of the Game
Seven, Three, Ace - don't shit!
Invisible Axes
Always hang over our plah.
There is a riddle - There is no answer
I stepped on the crown of the Pit,
Where the blood washes off Macbeth’s hands
And the Queen of Spades slumbers.
* * *
Fly, arrow! Goodbye! Parting!
The murder is right before our eyes.
All - no bow tied,
Only a bowstring in my hands.
* * *
Cheap Reprise,
But replica sneaky
Forgive her whims
And not her fault
What did the surprises do
Her Kings, Marquises,
And from top to bottom
She crumbled.
Once famous
Now she's forgotten
Dull and crammed
This is the end of the road.
She lives unsatisfied,
Comedy finite,
Broken trough
Where would the author be found?
* * *
Man is not a fool
Adapted to the world
For example, I came up with a bag,
Imitating a kangaroo.
Man is not a fool
He is both a genius and a villain,
Like children, money in bags
They sleep in marsupial people.
Gaft's Interesting Poems
Everybody gave birth to an egg
We came out of his diapers -
Who with a human face
And someone with a beak, like a chicken.
So the masquerade began
How cleverly someone came up with everything!
And on the shell outfit
He put on masks and costumes.
Who was the first, after all,
Egg or chicken, it doesn't matter
And that egg was fragile
And the chicken was brave.
And the oval egg was smooth
And the silhouette is impeccable
Oh suicide bombers great ball!
Under each mask is the secret of life.
* * *
I love you
Tired, forgive me.
I'm paying with blood
The heavy cross is tired of carrying.
Blood is not fat, not oil is paint,
Laughs like a watercolor
Will become a white bandage
Will become a clean bed.
And there will be no lies and whimsy
Everything will disappear without a trace
Washes red landscapes
Indifferent water.
* * *
A false secret has no secret
You cannot artificially suffer.
No, just do not become a poet.
No, just do not become anyone ...
Who will judge us, right God,
What are you waiting for, what are you waiting for
When the madmen cry, “Bravo!”
So they sang a second lie to them.
And is there truth in birth
Or maybe it’s your experience,
Why are we asking forgiveness
Kneeling before you?
And maybe Your arch will collapse soon
For all the reckoning will be darkness
The last candle will go out
Eternal winter will come.
Take away the sad doubts
Imperfect man
There will be no eternal eclipse
Eternal snow will not fill us.
And just did not appear
There is not a single soul in the world.
God's grace is responsible for everything
We repent before her, sinning.
But the world is not a figment of the imagination
There is earthly flesh and blood
Here is genius and crime,
Evil is and is love.
Good and evil - two eternal flags
Always warring parties.
Iago triumphs for a while,
He does not triumph for long.
Evil does not accept the universe
But this is how the white light works,
What is eternal suffering in him,
There the poet is born.
* * *
Gray head on a pillow.
Holds a thin-skinned hand
Red volume "Alexander Pushkin".
He is sure to be with her now.
He never parted with her,
The best is the first gentleman,
In it, he came to life when read.
Here is an example of genius.
Pensive and strange came
Hat removed from a curly head.
You’ve always been waiting here, Alexander,
We lived because you were.
Oh long-suffering Faina
Dear slammed piano.
There are exactly half sad notes in it,
As many unplayed. It's a pity!
* * *
I want to say one thing to you, a lantern:
Serving the art of light wholeheartedly
You lit shit so sometimes
What was becoming and it is noticeable.
* * *
It all started with Fuete,
When the Earth, starting a rotation,
Like a virgin in nudity
Worried by embarrassment,
Suddenly spun in the dark.
Ah, just don't stop
Do not dissolve in the bustle
Let my head spin
With Earth together in Fuet.
Ah, just don't stop
And if it’s only a dream,
Let it last as long as possible
My Beautiful Dream - Fuete!
It all started with Fuete!
Life is an Eternal Movement
Do not turn to Beauty
Stop for a moment
When she's on High.
Stop sometimes
It’s dangerous for that moment
She's always moving
And therefore she is beautiful!
Ah, just don't stop ...
* * *
Mommy, calm down, he's not a bully,
He will not bother you at the stop,
In the Malakhov war, remember the mound?
With grenades, these went under the tanks.
They built roads and bridges,
Canals were digging, mines and trenches.
Always in the mud, but their souls are pure
Forever the veins tensed around the neck.
What a manner - just for a gun
What a habit - immediately to your knees.
Mayakovsky passed away - a bully,
The bully Yesenin passed away.
So that we don’t humiliate pennies,
So we don't live, mother, idiotic
The bully Shukshin passed away,
The bully Vysotsky passed away.
We are alive, and they went there,
Taking all our pains, wounds ...
A new Star is burning in the sky,
It was lit, of course, by the hooligans.
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