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I wish to die in youthful Spring

I wish to die in youthful Spring
When May’s returning, long-expected,
When everywhere is scented green,
And all the world is resurrected.
At things in life that I hold dear
I'll throw a glance, yet smiling calmly,
Then bless my death without fear,
And call her absolutely charming.
 

This clay bird

This clay bird
is actually me.
Angels have a habit
to start a song.
 
In the rhythm of rain and snow
to start a song,
and then with a running start
to throw me against the wall.
 
But colorful fragments -
rubbish, trash and fumes -
didn't get silent and are not silent
and will not get silent.
 
Angels have a habit
to sing and then stop.
But, fragile like frost,
the spirit is breathing in the cold clay,
whistling - and is not getting tired.
 

Having not learned anything

Having not learned anything
intentionally
but having received the gift as a gift
I will share it as a gift as well.
 
Slightly obsessive motive
is pulling the string:
having taken the gift as a gift,
I will not hide it in the bag.
 
Given as a gift, this gift,
only this one,
in the midst of the blazing heat
and among non-melting ice floes.
 

The larks have arrived

The larks have arrived,
the larks.
Old herbs in the bed
are rusty and broken.
 
Old herbs make a litter
for a new weed,
like Palestinian sandstone does
for our Easter.
 

And suffered, and was buried

And He suffered and for a moment
doubted: just like us.
So the Incarnation
is not a concept, an opinion
or an idea

Oh bee, the bee, what for and why

Oh bee, the bee, what for and why
Is it not for me that you turn poison into honey

Don't go farther than the forest

Don't go farther than the forest,
Don't look for a ford in the river,
Here is the clearing, the country road and the bridge.
Only the poor imp
Constantly seeks to plunge into the water
Relying on his tail as on a steering wheel.
But for you, not for an imp,
There's no interest in this,
So clap and stomp on the bridge
With no shyness for your walk,
But having reached its middle,
Look up from depth to height.
 

No words needed

No words needed. No words?
But where to put them?
Put them into suitcase's belly,
Deeper under the bed.
 
No sighs and exhales needed,
No ah and oh

Poor fly into amber

Poor fly into amber
accidentally flew.
Orwellian tear-off calendar
has met its limit.
 
Poor fly in the amber
can't breathe and can't tremble.
And on a bunk in January
it's hard to turn in tightness.
 
Flame licks Orwell's book
in a quiet stove.
The poor fly sings
but no one hears her.
 

We were children

And we - we were children
and got caught into nets,
traps and snares.
And to us - under a lamp with a book,
with armpit thermometer -
moths flew.
 
And someday they will ask us,
where the wind takes us,
where we are rushing
at full speed. 'Chasing',
'sorcerers' and 'bastards'...
And yet, where should we go?
 

Having swallowed ninety grievances

Having swallowed ninety grievances
I will say unequivocally:
if a mouse is sleeping behind the stove
then happiness is possible.
 
If 'Sleep-my-joy-sleep' song is flowing,
then it was not splashed out,
the one that paints days happy,
the silvery drop.
 

String

Versions: #1
A tightened string
Sounds only when alive
One brief moment
Only one life
I won't return here anymore
And won't say hi
My granite isn't beating
Forgive me, I beg you
 
Only a glass on the table
And weary soul
All is like you wanted
Loneliness and emptiness
We could be together
Would go to cinemas
I need only you
But you wouldn't care anymore
Come back...
I love you
More than life
More than life
 
I love you
More than life
I love you
More than life
I love you
More than life
I love you
More than life
I love you
More than life
 

Moscow windows

Versions: #1
Here again the skies are dark at night,
The windows are bright in the twilight.
All my dear friends live here,
My quiet sigh, I couldn’t hear,
In the night windows I look for you my dear.
 
I can stand by the windows and dream,
I can read them like a book or magazine.
And keeping warm and cherished light,
They entice me and excite,
They are like people look at me tonight.
 
I admire at night the windows I knew,
I wish windows, happiness to you
You’ve been dear all my life,
And there is no brighter light-
Moscow windows ever-burning light. (x2)
 
You’ve been dear all my life,
And there is no brighter light-
Moscow windows ever-burning light!
 

Here is my hand

Here is my hand, let's go together.
When we are two, it's easier for us
To break the vicious circle.
All, what lies ahead: our path, our home -
Is forever with us, my friend, my friend.
 
Refrain:
I still can't believe
That the star of my destiny is lucky -
That you have met me
At the crossroads of days.
 
Here is my hand... It's no one's fault
That you were near
With me only in dreams.
The sad words - 'one', 'alone' -
Won't come to you and me anymore.
 
Refrain (repeated 3 times)
 

Little boat

well, now when you going
like a rock a hundred tons
in my chest tossing and turning
like dull bells of Notre Dame
 
along the cloudy shores
now you will wander alone
we were one of those gods
who didn't spare their own
 
who piled up ice,
invented all those words,
from under the blue water
pulled out islands
 
who changed the river flow
and weaved the night
time to switch on the snow
and leave without goodbye
 
believe me, when I say:
you were brightest, my love
we have tailored the sun's rays
and established a laugh
 
time to except the gifts
from the mother of silence.
there will be more worlds.
and ours have came to an end.
 
time, breaking the oars and leave
depart on a journey:
lie in the golden myth
and push the boat away.
P.
 

You can’t forget and sweeten that

You can’t forget and sweeten that
What’s left? - the bitter end
The strong won’t help – you’re beaten flat
The weak might give a hand
 
Such is the time – the hellish one
In Russia today -
The rich won’t help - the selfish bunch
The poor people may.
 
And all insights are obvious
All truths are really simple -
The saints lost their godliness
Who will absolve? – the sinful.
 

To settle down, not to waste energy for revenge...

To settle down, not to waste energy for revenge,
Let the better beginning be revenge,
Not to forget, who you are, where you are from,
What you sought to, what you dreamed of!
 
Even though the goal is unattainable in any way,
It fades in clouds, as beckoning bird,
My every step is like a little mystery,
Trustingly lying in the hands.
 
All the cranes are in the high blue sky,
Out of my reach, beyond the visible boundaries,
I’m the happiest in the world
Owner of the caught tits.
 

Shahada* Sleep

Drowsy smiling on your black eyes
Are you in your unarousable sleep, anymore
Are you in your unarousable sleep, anymore
 
Yor blood dropped on ground like cemre**.
Are you in the horizon of shahada way
Are you in the horizon of shahada way
 
Your hands and face are full of lines
Are you in your thirty or fourty
You left us alone and glided to the sky
Are you aware that your pain is unbearable
 
Your lips are like saying something
Are you in the same love song again
Are you in the same love song again
 
Even angels emulate you
Are you on your throne in heaven
Are you on your throne in heaven
 
Your hands and face are full of lines
Are you in your thirty or fourty
You left us alone and glided to the sky
Are you aware that your pain is unbearable
 
Are you aware that your pain is unbearable
Are you aware that
Even angels emulate you
Are you on your throne in heaven
Are you in the same love song again
Are you in your song
 

Timm Thaler's song

Anyone can say whatever,
But let's face the truth, my friends:
Mazes cannot last forever

Hey, grandma, barf!

Her eyeballs are like swimmers
Deep are her teats
Her thighs are wide
Striped and soft
Her pussy is hairy
Hairy and dense
Her tits are like a shovel
Like a shovel from a bush
 
Her ass is fatty
Fatty and fat
Her lips are like cotton
Just like frost water
Her hands are offset
Offset like temples
Her wonders are obnoxious
Her bellies are like sands
 
Her skin is Molozhava [a polish city]
Nostriled and nearby
Her fingers are like a cobra’s
Fingers howl, such fingers
Here self pissing burki murki
Grandma trench mardyuka
Like in a leather coat
They float out of a bag
 

Those who search for meaning

A layer of ice has covered my pants
Like whiteness, like silence
My palms are crawling in glue
Like spiders, like clouds
My mind has reached a dead end
It bored me to death like day and night
So I threw it away somewhere
Like a boomerang, like female moaning
 
Your logic makes me want to vomit
Your logic makes me want to vomit
If you search for meaning - look up at the sky and see your eyes
 
I stood up and discovered I was dead
Like a mausoleum, like a rifle
Passerby are going to the election
Sheets in hand, hooray in mouth
On the streets the punks are rampant
Driven by shame and genocide
Bodies roam the streets
They are sick, they stink
 
Your logic makes me want to vomit
Your logic makes me want to vomit
If you search for meaning - look up at the sky and see your eyes
 
Dragonflies are attacking a plane
High above in the middle of the day
Factories are generating tar
To feed the revered saints
I climb deep into my brain
But there’s a wall ahead
All I believe in is my nonexistence
Among all nothingness
 
Your logic makes me want to vomit
Your logic makes me want to vomit
If you search for meaning - look up at the sky and see your eyes
 

Dog

I saw a dog
She had ears
And big eyes
And a little chain around her neck
And a stubby tail
Sticking out of her bottom
Was something very similar
To hopelessness
And she didn’t even bark
She laughed softly instead
And I broke out laughing
And then suddenly cried
And the dog let out a howl
All sickly and horrifying
And then I curled up next to her
And the dog died
And hopelessness even stopped
Sticking out of her bottom
 

The pediatrician said nunya

The pediatrician said “nunya”
Gleb Matveich said “totally”
Frol Mikhailych said “said”
John Tamarych said “totally”
Lev Abramych said “non stop”
We said “no pasaran”
Klalafuda said “hoi!”
Someone once again said “totally”
 
Bonifacius said “kaya”
Door said “close me”
Kuzya UO said “to be honestly”
I said and I totally
 
The kind uncle said “suit”
Bodhisattva said “raisin”
Grandma Misha said “ro”
I thought about it and decided to keep quiet
 
Even a coat
C’est la vie pourquois
Perhaps, G.O.
 

You've Got Such Eyes

You've got such eyes
That look like they have two pupils in each,
Like the latest cars have.
 
At night
Cars fly from highway to highway, whirring
With two pairs of headlights.
 
You've got double eyes,
Enough for two faces.
All the oceans shine through the eyes
Multiplied by two.
 
You see, your eyes are
A map of the two hemispheres of the Earth.
When you close them,
The equator sinks into the night.
 
And when I ask them to open,
They reveal two blue poles
At the moment of opening.
 

Fog

Fog, fog, gray shroud
Far-far away, there is war behind fogs
There are battles without us, but we aren't guilty
We are chained to ground by fog
Air workers of war
 
Fog, fog, on the past, on the yore
Far-far away, there is our home behind fogs
And in frontline dugout we see dreams about childhood
It looks like we all mature early
Air workers of war
 
Fog-fog, enveloped ground again
Far-far away, there is love behind fogs
Brides will wait us long from the foreign land
Not all will return from flight
Air workers of war
 
Air workers of war
Air workers of war
Air workers of war
 

Bespontoviy pie

Versions: #1
There is one thing in my pocket -
Bespontoviy pie
Each of us -
Is a bespontoviy pie
Each of us -
Is a bespontoviy pie
 
Every day i guard
I guard my bag
All of my life
I guard my bag
 
On the Oka and the Kuban
Twist all sorts of shit
Our folk likes
Some shit
 
Not windows, not doors
But ass is full of cucumbers
Our countru
Ass is full of cucumbers
Any country
Ass is full of cucumbers
 
There is one thing in my pocket -
Bespontoviy pie
Each of us -
Is a bespontoviy pie
 
Each of us -
Is a bespontoviy pie