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The modern poet is most often

An unknown “scribbler”.

And almost no one has ever heard of it.

He’s hungry and angry as a dog.

This is how the people see them-modern creators

Because of a bunch of incompetent majors.

And, in the end, your talents are you hiding your face,

Avoiding abuse and shame.


It is not difficult to fall down.

It’s harder to get to the top.

Although in life everything is possible,

Even success in life.

Only to achieve success

You need to be brave.

All people have a hindrance —

Take yourself and surprise.

You try with a flourish,

Jump over your head.

Take this step without fear,

Can vryatli who, alas.

This “bar” equalizes everyone.

Even those who are not the first time,

Every other time they drop it,

Banging my head.

But they fall again

Get up and go.

This is life, everything, the basis —

Always be on the road.

There is no limit to perfection! —

This is true, but not all of it.

There is such a line, the case,

For which you can’t.


You can live without capital,

But wealthier than anyone else in the world.

But it is necessary, very little:

Peace in the family, love and children.

Capitalists don’t understand,

This joy is ordinary.

As without dirty money, clean,

Life to live in fuller decent.

After all unions are created,

Not by the signature in the contract.

And when two hearts are beating —

In one rhythm, in one clock cycle.

This truth is simple,

It has been known to many people for a long time.

For someone to grow with,

Thicket of life, roads to it.

Someone simply doesn’t want to

See the joy of the soul.

He cares about his own family,

For the “magic” illusion.

People buy locks.

Money is saved-millions!

They will live luxuriously,

But soulless-according to the law.

Tell me, my love,

Is it really for our happiness

Gold mountains need to?

Or money passions?

You can do it without capital

To live richer than anyone else in the world.

All OK for happiness need to little:

Peace in the family, love and children.


Every day is a game of roulette.

Who’s who?

At night, a friend went to investigate.

It’s not there.

Only yesterday we smoked with him

For two persons.

Problems were discussed,

About his.

I’ve lost count,

Remembering friends,

That you won the honor

After his death.

I would accept their bullets

At myself, if I could.

But the boys were asleep,

Dropping dead from his feet.

Whistling took a long walk —


After the battle the cry was heard:

“Who’s alive?!”

In silence, a little breath

And again,


Its span.

Everyone was equal here.

Captain and soldier

They found their death,

Don’t step back.

Who’s alive and who’s dead,

The rest are in bandages.

All pretty shabby

On the military front.


When you know all the secrets

And how does man work,

Then life ends here —

I’m not interested in her running.

Not interesting means boring,

There is no excitement — the speed has disappeared.

The answer to “be” has already been received,

And there is no question on “not to be”.

Not interested when people,

Not knowing what you know,

They try, as if on a platter,

Shake their tails in front of you.

And the like — should be happy,

After all, it has become easier to see so.

But something, somewhere, is gnawing, or what,

And where and what, I don’t know how.


I walk on the edge of the last breakdown.

The decisive gesture is in the turn of fate.

And either I will fall into the abyss from the cliff,

Either I’m strong enough to fight.

I lived by fortune-heads or tails.

For the first time, the coin stood up sideways.

Some kind of evil, mockery-mockery.

I was sure, scratching with a pen.

Bold thoughts, on white paper

I wrote and thought: “It will always be like this!”

I thought that my, such, audacious courage,

There will be no limit, anywhere, ever.

Now I’m scared — I’m in a terrible panic.

And I’m burning up in my mind — day by day.

The outcome of this stupid, life-long joke,

For the first time, it doesn’t depend on me.


Not living, but surviving

On a snowy edge.

We live and know for sure,

Better than the North end

There is a place only in Paradise.

Yes and there probably isn’t,

The beauty that we have.

Here winter follows summer.

Autumn is hanging around, somewhere.

And spring is only for an hour.

Some might not believe it

And say it’s nothing.

Well, you can check it out,

Our doors are open to everyone.

Come on over here.

And let it not be the capital,

We don’t care about the cold.

Still, there is a kinder face here

And they won’t be angry

In vain, never.

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