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Popular poems of the Polozkova Faith
Misfortunes never come alone.
Usually she's cheeky.
Misfortune brings guilt
Bringing friends with him
He picks up a guitar, looks into his eyes,
Mocking jazz plays
And the heart settles down, beyond
Do not hold the wall.
Yes, promise, do not trust, -
But from below, steam from my mouth,
The trouble is ringing - then open
Iron gate.
Wait for the triumph to blow you
After a battle, two,
Trouble will drive you into you
And knock out the spirit at once.
You will disappear where the hell
Sweep the bottles from the tray,
And the brothers will leave you in trouble -
She is so sweet.
And if they come to rescue - you don’t
Open it.
- Save yourself!
- Oh,
Leave the girl alone
With her young misfortune.
When she passes - again
All wounds will cover the ice -
The girl will count the clock
Until the next trouble.
* * *
With him inside, I will become so close to myself so quickly
With our mouths we begin to close just like wounds.
We will leave each other early
In the non-residential space of sleep.
There will be a ring: here is a tribute with tears, here is a don’s eyes.
He will fill up with words pathetic, cinematic.
And rusted like a scabbard
It clenches my palm in my fingers.
Turn around and the crowd part in front.
And I’ll go as if on fire, almost without sound, I -
Broken hand cradle,
Like a baby, on the chest.
* * *
From the summer, it leaked from a boiler, made its way from under the rubble.
And then everyone scorched to the ground, and the bells.
At first you don’t remember when you spent the last time at home,
Then - when she was just at home.
However, besides your ship and ball
There are other things to do.
There is a mom - on Corvalol, but angry in strength,
From old age, not bending over, but raking.
There is a soul with high mileage - it was worn
Dozens more of you
Yes, and it’s not so long for her to sit in you,
Already rewound about a third
God squeezed, ventriloquist her - to no avail
It’s most funny to look at yourself.
Stupid, eye on tape, belly on cotton,
Half a day to collect the details to get out of bed,
May He with a billion other orphans
Stereg, mastered and built, as in a boarding school.
But somehow regret it
And pick up.
* * *
Clenching fists to whiteness,
I do not feel pain.
I play only the main roles -
May they not always be great
But there’s always more salt in them,
More bile in them or longing,
Directness or true will -
They are terribly difficult at times,
But for them, and more rewards.
You want to make me
Become one of your episodes.
The frame of the film. In the blink of an eye
Stone echoing gothic vaults
Your castles. Keys ringing
Lock me in the back of the rooms
His memory and, without scolding,
Without blaming, forget and not remember.
Only I'm not one of those sitting in the corners
Waiting in vain for the great hour
When you deign to return to them - there,
Where he left. Their mass is dark and faceless, -
Not one to approach the main roles.
I am not of this breed. In my hair
Restless and fresh, the wind is frantic
You will recognize my voice in other voices -
He is free and bold, he is sonorous and bright,
In my veins a flame flows, not blood,
Boiling in the pupils of burning juice.
I’m sharp, so know that you don’t have to be a prophet,
To understand that I'm shooting in the eye, and not in the eyebrow.
I like you, Master: even with you to the edge,
Though over the edge: we are doused with a single radiance.
This play is your fate; well, choose -
If you want, I'll be your Margarita ...
* * *
My mother has been in Turkey since last night.
I now take newspapers for her.
Echoing in the house. By the way, very hungry:
Only yogurts and sweets -
I'm armless like Venus
I don’t want to cook at all.
I could have pancakes, for example -
But one thing - not at all after all.
Days are quiet, like songs for the final credits.
The city is fresh, springy and independent.
The telephone wire seems to have been torn out.
And no letters come from anyone.
My muse with black hair
Today the Thames whispers their passwords.
I have to watch movies for hours
And swallow handfuls of shpu from pain.
Nobody. And Julia flies to the sea.
The metropolis is clean and uninhabited.
I - and laziness - wingless, you see, on the mountain:
Who is where - but we are not flying away.
I would plow, pulling the reins zealously.
I would have the sky, not four walls.
Well, while I smoke hookahs with my friends
And I wear socks of unearthly shades.
If only someone shook, ordering to be the best!
The blanket would be pulled out of my bed!
Wind of change! Stay listen.
Mom will be in Turkey for two weeks.
* * *
Each other's estates - with rivers and forests,
Valleys, highlands, runways;
Let's be without tourists, but only ourselves.
Let's dissolve us, bury us
In binocular darkness.
Each other ships.
Rushing towards a screech, big dogs,
Fused with doors, latitudes, addresses,
Rub my noses
Ropes
Sails
I'll be swarthy lips when weak
Kiss you lightly on the forehead horizon
Between skin and hair.
In some of the tiniest cabins
I’ll be cozy every day,
And we will listen to the gulls that scurry about
Along the deck, and sirens that sing from the waters.
So that the wind would blow us bangs and tear flags
You will lead, and I will take the helm,
And on the shore salute so that the carnival.
To take something in bulk, something to board,
So that you will not give us more than twenty,
And salt eats up to meat already.
To profile in blue, and heading south-south,
So that if one by one - then all the kayuk,
So that two forever young, agile young,
And every badass, demon, pampering heaven
A prong on the neck
Shark, but you can,
And every lover, angry, young boob.
In the spyglass, dotted, barely -
Each other's islands.
And God will be an old boatswain, a thunderstorm of the seas,
Tanned, cast, in anchor tattoos,
Silent eloquent, like Bill Murray,
Arranged like a hero.
We will be a joy to him, such a game
Dolphins or whales, somewhere near the stern.
And besides water and darkness there is no other prison.
And there is no pronoun other than "we."
And, filling the holds with laughter, silver
Rainy Moscow - with all such kindness,
We set down, moor, sit down to the edge edge
And start pulling September like a dark rum
And quietly warm inside.
And Lunya palm feels us, strict -
Each other's shores.
And the evening will be peppered, like kharcho soup.
So that in the eyelashes prickly and hot.
And Boatswain gently bumps you on the shoulder:
- See you soon, brother, passing. Come back rich.
And the breeze in the hair will walk, playful.
And the distant reef will be waiting for us tomorrow
Who will propor the belly to us, staining
Nearby turquoise by us, like a sunset.
* * *
A city made for two
Headlights pouring fire.
Pavement at your feet -
This is my palm.
At night they slouch.
Rain licks slowly
From the warm plate of the street
A trace from your soles.
Chorus.
See, I'm in every banner.
Do you hear me in every hymn.
Just recognize me in the crowd
And never lie to me.
Deafening and tall
And sometimes rude
My voice is the voice of signage
And drainpipes.
The evening will soon house
Light shattering through the windows.
May I be a city
To hug you?
* * *
Thought - looking for ourselves
Stars themselves and dear.
Let the children believe in parables
About Almighty Rock.
Fatum's plan is lost.
People of the gods are stronger ...
Only you are meant
He bequeathed to me by heaven.
Fiery right hand
(I feel it is in trouble!)
You are written in kind,
Carved in the family
Tender death
Pain for my native country -
Baby you're destined
You are foreseen to me ...
Both proud - I know.
Together - like in a war.
Only - an evil smile -
There is simply no choice:
With new ones - do not forget
New - do not like.
I won’t come true without you.
I won’t be without you.
How much be with others
Do not tease fate -
This is your name
Like a stamp on my forehead
The best poems of Vera Polozkova about love
And ride a bottle on the freeway
Stunned, plastic, simple.
We sat an hour, parted without looking,
No "stay" or "wait";
I have a night, fifty-six.
Give me a ride to the station, uncle,
You're going completely empty.
The hardest thing to get used to -
I am alone, like a suicide bomber or a fisherman.
I'm the only one who lies caught
Cold outside: I'm weak.
I am one of all drunkards and all dogs.
You can grunt so hopelessly
Which, it seems, is my business.
I would not leave. I would sit rubbed
Bezel or ring
And looked in the neck, collarbone, throat,
T-shirt collar - but not in the face.
That would blow out these drills at once -
One Hundred Damned Drill
With pencil lead, dagger tongue
(the groove on the blade is like a needle)
So I run happy
How he takes me to the corner
And not deafness, nausea and gloom.
I really want her to adore you,
Pamper and cherish.
And remind me not to come again.
So that I really couldn’t.
* * *
It was necessary to beware.
It was necessary to anticipate a failure.
Just Father wanted to have fun
And check me out for you.
I was waiting for a catch from Him -
He decided not to lose a day.
Well, bingo. I really feel bad.
He beat me again.
You are so warm and crowded ...
So your smile is bitter ...
God always plays dishonestly.
God plays for sure.
He is bluffing. He does not laugh.
He thinks through the moves.
That's why copper sun
Fills your tracks
That's why your look is greedy
And breathing is like surf.
You know, He is merciless.
He will melt you.
He will corrode me with black soot
Your evil hair, evil eyelashes.
He will probably make even
To beg him, to prostrate
And crucified after all. Not at Calvary.
You will kill me faster.
I will come to you to drink coffee.
And die
Yours
Sole
* * *
Voice - fat syrup ... Solono ...
He dreamed again of his face.
Symbol of the hell of a circle of new -
Morning. Devil's wheel.
"No, he can - he is just lazy!"
“Well, doesn’t the head bother?”
Report back. Make sure -
Yes indeed,
Are you alive.
Holds in a plastic cup
Coffee is sugary as always.
- And at night? - Today Tanechka
- Will have to stand on guard - yes?
Tanya - kind, overtime -
Meekness - not even twenty ...
Ask for the bandages soaked
Bring me to the head.
I'm sick. I'm a leper.
My diagnosis is already a password:
“Hopeless? Infected?
Do not touch - Lubol. "
The sun in a cramped chamber rages
And Calvary on the floor -
Cross windows. I'm four months old
His death in the morning stele
Instead of a bedside mat, -
The poison of the sun's beam.
Tanya? Quiet, neat ...
And a distant thunderstorm
Tread measured head physician.
Dry in veins. Not blood - black oil
Slurry puddles spilled
On the bed. Every minute
Bandage bandage
Does not expose the crimson fabric -
Black Rainbow Overflow
Oil - with a millimeter film -
It’s like the shore is covering me.
Merged. Evaporated. Pumped out
Everything inside is only heat and dryness.
Sushi and fever. And seized with plaits
Saponiferous currents of souls.
All tears are squeezed. Sucrowica
Chases the lacrimal gland
On the cheeks - why get lilac
And my eyes do not see.
Day is like a scream. And bent with teeth -
The fever of oblivion.
The day is like a rack: we are crucified on it -
My memory is near me.
Wheezing
Groan, -
Is he.
Is he.
A day like a whirlwind in the desert - solono
And the sand clogs your mouth.
In the afternoon - compressed, wheeled -
And scattered at the gate.
Clank.
Ringing.
Is he.
is he
Light greasy. Quiet cave.
Measured step - emptiness is coming.
Pre-evening courtesy -
But it’s not a night tour at all.
Hypocritical surprise:
“You had a good day!” -
Report back. Make sure -
Yes indeed,
You will die.
With their salvation
“Passed – bowl – this” -
It’s not her, we are all on conscience -
Conscience
there is
And we have
Own.
... Consolations of the delightful
Exhale - exit brother exactly, -
Pack of sedative:
After the evening
It will be night.
Pickling
Painless
Eye of the day - a light trap.
God have mercy! - pain medication -
A spoon of darkness
For one glass.
Sky icy liter -
In a dropper
Let me pour through the glass ...
The moisture of the night cries a little
My damn
Lyubol.
Drinking - like a well
Life-giving holy water.
Casts - timid, fearful
Young mountain stream -
Talking ...
Stinging! ..
The taste is plastic in the mouth.
Angel should take pity today
And help cross the line.
that “vivat” to you, O Great ...
God ... sent ... a plague ...
Ah, how salty ... This wild
The pain will make you lose your mind ...
How do I ... hate the later
The pre-dawn birth of the day ...
Tanya! Tanya! No air!
Balcony door for me
Open ... Why, why is she
Burns my throat - salt ...
Hallelujah to you, Sacred
Redeeming Lubol.
* * *
Lips melting in such a smirk
What envy and king
He will tip the plug
My quivering "love."
And with guile in a honey look
The taste is divine.
And the column about my shame
He will also be recorded in the account.
* * *
In fresh wounds grains of salt.
Ears of rye dream at night.
Never afraid of pain -
Only lies.
Index of Eternity on an envelope.
Two gypsies in a dashing arba.
She didn’t want anyone to die.
Only to myself.
Exhausted, dozing
In the fingers of the Lord. Syllable crushing,
I ask heaven so little ...
Yes you.
* * *
It is a world of interchangeable; what could be funnier than your protest.
Learn to treat yourself as inferior
Of creatures; they will post a stranger if you do not send them text.
He will find it more accommodating if you don't call him back.
This is a homogeneous world: in it there are no chosen ones - nor superfluous.
You do not have to defend the rights, roll out your lips.
Okay, you won’t convince - but you won’t even anger them.
It used to be without you somehow.
The myth of self-exclusivity that has arisen
Due to the complex organization of nervous activity.
Good Father, would make rickshaws right away
Or the person who changes the ashtrays.
* * *
Hiding your face in the bruises
I will fight and win
Soft tissue etching
To wait for your plebeian weakness
Crying my shameful cowardice
When - no sails, no oars ...
I will have mercy - melting into slush,
Or shoot - if evil.
I will gaze with heavenly eyes
In slaves to turn opponents.
And I will fight in Samurai.
And do not say goodbye. And do not forgive.
And do not miscalculate - it's no use
Knots twisted nerves into a fist ...
And then it will be too late
Smiling like a lens
Kiss me like a reward
Suddenly joyfully descending
To make my life happy,
Finding a bit of profit -
Boredom. Variety for the sake of.
I am patient, but not stupid.
Then the steel will shine in sight
In mine - from the moon from the sickle!
And letters - those that are more sacred -
All will be burned - to the line.
My darling, there will be no more trembling
In the impassive wax of my hand.
In it, only contempt is empty.
Yes, I am vindictive - but proud:
I won’t even deign revenge
Your arrogance never.
But ... the sun is still shining, my dear,
That the bounty of God affirm.
Not yet taken by the grave
My plebeian weakness is to wait.
Beautiful poems by Vera Polozkova
Kissing silently, headlights
Turning off. Depth
Novelty Stroke
Hearts - that is a kiss long.
Wake up to the sound of a guitar
Let upset and trashy.
Serenades in one string.
I love being part of a couple.
It is more joyful than one.
But in love, not like in war
And most likely as in a secret
Agentura: a traitor not
Condemned rather random
A bullet indulges in a dream;
You are doubly risking yourself.
And, trembling the temple,
Like berry jelly I
Sweet girl's voice
Metal - I'm sorry
But you have to - throw a piece
Steel in the back. Choke on the sand
Like a rare beaujolais and
How to give you a sock -
Smile at them, heavier.
* * *
From me to you
Distance equal to the best story
Bunin; equal speech in search
Formulas equal to the night on the train
From Pivdenny to Kievsky station.
A distance equal to "did not say the main thing."
I travel a lot and am full of silence to the full.
I like to be out of address and out of access.
I imagine you gundosy
In the realm of bottles, blinds, iron bars, -
Sleeping in a compartment, opposite.
This, in fact, is all that I have alive and real.
No mailbox, so intrusive, no howling
Baggage I would move like a lizard
Century, no point of arrival, ideally.
To knock and glare on the blanket.
This is the essence of loneliness, how much desired, so bottomless.
This is a reason to expose the full,
To summarize through dolnik,
Drive, listen to wheels, rails, heart rate.
So you read later from the handheld
And did not smile.
That you read, blinking desperately, as if from a sharp,
From the sudden, eyes of the scratched apostrophe,
Like je t’aime.
The distance from the island to the island
Unsuitable for fishing or hunting.
All routes are bypassed.
* * *
Strings are crocheted
On lips that are drained by fire.
People hiding their eyes behind the glasses
They don’t listen to me intensely.
Evil, honest indifference -
To hell with them my tantrums? ..
They would have a decent car
Without metaphors and esoterics,
Im in love with dumplings with ketchup,
What are my words aerial?
I understand it is eternal
Ironic indifference!
They breathe haze and gossip
Beer foams in their bottles
What am I, seventeen
Crazy preacher? ..
They look slightly gloating
Paternally grinning grins:
"Grow up first, my passionate,
Tea, and we were very ardent! ”
I break their minds
Their daughters are moronic
Not over the new Pelevin trembling,
And they flirt with the night police.
I fight to be the best
The colors of the images so that they are not faded,
But ... you don’t listen to me either
Phlegmatically flashing glasses ...
* * *
Yes, what I have, everything is normal, so, conditionally.
I’ve been sick for about two weeks now.
We kind of talk to you, and literally
Everything is known as an epigraph to an empty chapter.
We don’t see each other at all, but a feeling, as if
I carry you like a hostage in my head.
It's time, my sun, too many differences
Cracked - and God knows why.
And a new time breaks into the house and teases
And he wants to start, poking his nose into the darkness.
As if an unexpected holiday is coming to you,
And you forgot how to rejoice at him.
It’s time, my sun, it’s silly to say goodbye now,
When everyone already said, and only a moan.
For a hundred years you couldn’t crack up with you,
And the alien voice buzzed like a distant background,
And finally, we have nowhere to return
And you can safely turn off the phone.
And something inside stretches so unpleasantly -
Safety rope or placenta,
And to cut already, to tear - come on, okay, okay,
Have eaten scenes,
Is it expensive? - I'm free,
You have three cents.
It’s time, my sun, the lips are already blowing
Your girlfriend is staring out the window.
How beggars show everyone stumps
Your relationship: petty and funny.
Let's get out already, pull the tubes away
And, swallowing the water, we’ll go to the bottom with a stone.
* * *
I.
Drop down.
Draw.
Unquestioning, like a banner.
Mouthful.
Hair in three streams.
He is a girl’s grimace -
Anxiety. Perplexed.
I am open to all the winds
Hot to chills.
He eats cheesecakes in the morning,
Not really mourning anything.
I -
Measuring words
Canopy
Smelting them right there into bullets,
He is sitting by the window on a chair.
And does not take his eyes off heaven.
We-
We do not know each other.
Us -
Not yet as a pronoun.
Only -
A drop of emotion.
Admiring. Sorry.
He is the almond shape of the eyes,
Fine-molded hands ...
In general, for the thousandth time,
Forehead squeezing hotly,
To be funny - just for show -
And grabbing snippets of phrases
Wit the doomed
God, how is it all worthless -
Never will happen "us"
As a unity of pronouns,
Only a handful of regrets. -
It is all over. The light turned off.
I.
All the same.
And even
Night
I kiss softly eyelids.
Do not break me.
Not help.
I am Jupiter's daughter.
Forever.
It's hard to love me
Earthly.
In a whirlwind of fierce springs
I sometimes suffocate otherwise
That the radiant, ascended, unbearable ...
But they won’t build a temple for him,
That will be great and eternal -
He eats cheesecakes in the morning
And falls in love with mortal women.
I am
Still, only a string.
Only
Vote.
Without words.
Without flesh.
Muse.
Spirit.
Just not a wife. -
Wind,
Caught
At the end.
* * *
Never disturb the one who lies at the bottom.
I am sand and the great sea lies on me
Dimensionally breathes in a dream, mysterious and deep.
Like a fat woman on a faded sheet
With bread crumbs under the side.
Someone rushing around, walking like a light in a stove,
Someone's looking for me, barely visible in the night
On a baseball cap, eye squirrels, a flashlight and sneakers.
I lie in silence, scream or don't scream.
My eyelids are neither cold nor hot.
And the language of despair is unknown to me.
What kind of power bore me - but did not save me.
I am easy, unpronounceable, I have no number.
Only the sun dances in diamonds through the water.
Give rest, Lord, to the vizier and the fisherman,
Give rest and I won’t speak anymore
Those beloved baseball caps, sneakers and a flashlight,
From which I now escaped
to freedom.
* * *
Without any abandoned by chance
Faded farewell phrases:
Come on, my dear, don't miss
Call at least once a week.
Forever is just tea
On the upper eyelids of the eyes ...
Everything is simple, the sun, - she advises
Nest to you at last.
And I find one in a hundred
Handsome or insolent.
Fatally - this is where the veil is
And a saucer for rings ...
And everyone clings to his pier
Mooring his slanting.
And will scream at night
Probably even a son.
“Love” - like “shoes”, didn’t you notice?
And it's better to walk barefoot.
* * *
Very calm, not rattling a trifle,
Get out, with three fingers
Touching the trigger, shoot closer to the eyebrow;
If this is truly called love,
Lord Holy God, have mercy on me.
Passion is a shaky bridge from friends to enemies;
If a fanatic - then, and the monogam:
You breathe in his neck, barely daring
And in the head with a sharpened hook in the jaw
Fold silently to your feet.
Passion is a very technological gift
Smelling it a mile inside - radar
Built in talk without walkie-talkies.
Want to love - learn to trust.
Branded practicing impact.
Interesting poems by the poetess Vera Polozkova
And where am I? I am at home in a coma, winter and pit.
Purring in the bathroom slowly Only you
I write myself plans, I spit on them right there;
And the skin sits on a cream like glue
And, if you don’t smear it, it’s going off in layers.
Where is he? Nobody knows; in fact
He is the wind; beyond; without a trace; out of the game.
May the sun shamelessly lick his whirlwinds
May he get tired of women and heat, -
It, by and large, does not exist.
After all, in fact, crooks are priceless.
I dream of it between an hour and ten;
Laughs with billboards; creeps into my article.
Tajiks - like the soundtrack to my nagging -
In the next apartment, the walls are echoed.
Such a disease at least once, but it happens with everyone:
I thought: I forgot to say something important,
I'll twist, I'll run, fly in the luggage
There, all with the same tag on his hand.
I thought: I’ll break in and say: porque?! ..
But the Eternal is sad over the line to the river,
In which no one is allowed twice.
* * *
Three moles like the Bermuda archipelago.
Four rings to replace one brass knuckles.
And you look out of the university window -
All turrets, domes and a three-color flag.
Mikhailo looks like a sheikh in the shadow of a plane tree.
Girlfriend is drinking tea under the stairs, waiting
Native Short-haired Jedi,
Which will go to skip a seminar.
Speech is spicy and alma mater - according to the mind.
They will smoke - and according to the editorial offices: to sow confusion
In people's heads. You look in - in a minute
Friends drown you in thick, caustic smoke.
Blinking - measure frames for centuries: now, look.
Smile scare like a flash; living just for the sake of
Moments when lit on a balustrade
Magical, like at Hogwarts, lights.
You have grown light: dust, coffee, tobacco and chalk,
Perfumes - like beacons, like a dense track in the night
Headlight; if they expel you
You will die like a whale that jumped aground.
* * *
There is nothing out of the blue
Just pour milk into it.
In a cup of heaven the Lord stirs
Cappuccino clouds.
This May Women Have In The Evening
Search: Whose rib is this?
I eat smoked chicken butter.
Cheese - and white silver.
This city eats moisture asphalt
Like skin. And ahead
Aunt stood up to hear the gospel,
What rumbles in my chest.
* * *
You skillfully knock down arrogance -
But I can handle where to go;
I want to get drunk at night
In the morning I want to be not here.
Heaped and rotted by a third,
The world is like an orphan plum;
To make you happy
You need to die on time.
Pause while walking along
Nerve - hey, am I really gonna
Die? - do not empty the wagon,
When the train goes to the depot.
Press the carrion into the ground with a pedal,
So that the hyena is not happy
The pack is dirty; rotting
Collective avoidance.
And to others who are resilient and fresh,
Explain everything as clearly as possible;
I’m already keeping up, Father.
Take me to paradise and eat me
* * *
In the moonlit moonlight
Penetrating through the window
Small orbiting satellite
God makes a movie about us.
From His lace fiction
It turned out continuous makabr.
I grew so big
That barely fit in the frame.
* * *
Come on, come on, play this with me again.
To sweet, then powerless, then sucks;
So - how, I did not want anything bad;
To leverage to three sevens - and the sound of coins.
Come on, come on, turn me on, touch me, move me;
Make a striker, a lady, a trump card, a major league;
I'm at the start, I smell like a fresh opened book;
Bets have been made, gentlemen, there are no more bets.
Once a hunter - look for a sheep, like in Murakami;
With fists - paper, scissors or a stone -
Provoke, bluff, torture me with no-calls;
Go through my vertebrae in handfuls.
Since you are water - so catch me and donkey, but
Hey, no oil! - let the losses be colossal,
We, the toy soldiers, are universal.
Until we die, hoarse "let go."
While there are no points, records, sparkles on the screen;
While your gaze fries my back, azure, harsh;
While you hold my heart in your hand like a joystick,
So far, you have not looked for anyone to replace;
Chip; partisan pawn; were we dashing
Became silent; get used to the voluntary scheme
And keep palms, eyes, and guns dry;
From E2 – E4 to the side a step - execution.
I am your sword; or automatic; barrel in a warm side -
Like lips; I am your sight; I'm walking along the edge
As a sapper, I check with my skin the road to paradise
In your hand - and if I lose,
That will put you in a box - God.
* * *
I promised to smoke by October - and now
The night with a wet nose pokes in my stomach
Looks with eyes wet from the lights
Jazz cigarette smoke flows in her
And you don’t end up surviving - and the hell with two:
Sometime in April, you can barely take a nap -
Autumn.
And you in it - as ever, alive.
Somewhere in April you will be exhausted, tired,
You’ll shoot you, tear it off, pull it over your shoulders,
Crumple into a corner - and by October again:
There is nothing to wear except you.
Thoughts go under the glass and become again
Butterflies pierced by an eyebrow
Throw yours - do not pull out, do not weaken.
A vicious circle, it was so, you remember - what’s it? -
Every day to bury love -
It’s just not enough cemeteries.
So here I am, hidden under the frames,
The angle of the urban panorama,
(A friend called me the Queen of Drama)
I lose whole kilograms per day
Lines - right here I am splashing onto a leaf;
Hands are empty, helpless, negligent;
It is healthy in the summer, relapses in the fall;
Autumn is a recidivist.
How are you there, the sun, with whom are you there, the air is warm,
How much I thought, saw, whether I drank everything,
Will the astringent ash fall at your feet
Curls at the lips, tickles your nostril?
Will it come true? - Well, that's it, I smoke,
Right under the jazz to the beat of this October
Burning your fingers with a filter, - uh, damn it! -
Here I smoke
Love you,
I say -
And not a damn thing I know
What to do about it.
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