Suspicion of the world hung, Everyone accused – cry don't cry; And Themis blind rocker – Also in someone's innocent blood. Suspicious of the nanny and children, And dedus, and a pain grandson, And a cloak

We are all other in fact, And oboznachen without number; Do not approach the person, You'll run into a donkey. Don't tempt with your attention, And the, tired from firewood, Will look back with

What is this strange phenomenon? What a miracle of untold power? It's the wind, the wind of inspiration Sad home visited. And again, from happiness muzzy I will run on the line pen, Well, through me, things

Gymnastics! Your arts Colored with the passion of love winner; Her Lord took out of the thick of the star, In the twine stretched, whispered: Create! – And Time rolled wheel At the Olympic benevolent planet

And there was no more than there was in the end, And no less left than it was in the beginning, But then had fun, and now-in sorrow, As for studded with pearls Royal casket. Because painfully word "the

In the light of remembrance, and at night, Sometimes, probably in vain, But do not be afraid of damage And we do not risk the abyss for nothing. Annoying stupid kid. So bedevils hem maternity: You'll howl

About the other saying, "This is one of a kind!» Supposedly, the lucky ones of fortune, an incredible gift, For mints of the anvil. And the other faceless, they are valued by weight, Like, war cannon

One Freedom of speech-neither in law, Nor in the regulations and articles, It's about how it leaned on the roots, How Mature on the bones. Humble him! Go try it. Swaddle the living sun? Rise and thought

In the window of frosty breathe circle Two trotters Orlowski-Sadness, Sadness; And the snow-covered distance rushes to them, Like a Mare, of all her friends. No harness... Must be rotten all over. And

If people you interesting since And in edema not died its feet, Play the endless song, The everlasting song of the road. From the damp forest dawn Hurry to the steppe sunset, If your youth do not finish

Christmas! And only yesterday-Christmas eve? Holidays the usual carousel… Walks to the lake and on the Christmas eve, On the porch of cranberry jelly. For winter-summer, and for winter-summer, And on South

Again, all the air is hollow, And, that a boy was school and the inspiration of the youth, - becomes like a flute, and no matter how you exhale Bata, - being romantic doesn't suit you. - You grew up-a

Not salt, but bitterness to my taste, So add a minus to plus, And it is not clear – what is important, The ship is cleaning, - Better than a MOP and castor oil., Than hearse, with three horses. Pull your

And why was I a black man? – Did not kiss visiting Prim Do not wait for the darkness, Did not break off in a throw of buildings, Didn't call it "pilgrim." We are the children of match boxes,

Seven silent notes split in flight, Each color got a note – One-two-three, one-two-three, one... - The voice breaks as flageolets, Black and white-phantom vendetta, Gas winds over the precipice, - Does

All say, that the exit-there - no rush., dark water on those jobs, circling the ovoid, and you don't come yet, dawn-from the East, although in the West - rains, and the Ghost of rock, and rivers - up and

Us unearthly kindness Perepoyasal glorious age, Like an angel under five Cloud life expired, - So dissolve the wafers, So for bee-pollen and bribes, And behind the cuckoo is a distant sound... Write on

Oh, what a song we sang... - still echoes in the distance, where the asphodels bloom luxuriantly, on the edge of the hot earth. - Be merry widow Proserpine, Persephone don't cry bitterly, when will we

Three different women in one merged in the poem, - and, as any story will turn, will come down to Lemma - someone Woe from wit, war, foreign, someone-Lily stigma, so innocent... - I'll compare the water

We have lived the age of translation, when not empty rock, but life is translated into... - (on crumbs, and kisslinger crumbles), (the tar out of poor cotton), (on faith and view from the window). Have