We equaled hopes and even more,
We gifted our hearts and goals.
«Our years are flying away…»
Our years are flying away,
Flying like birds coming down of height,
More and more behind all is left to stay,
More important becomes how with «not»
we behave.
We will not construct a building,
We will not return our friends,
And burden of debts or irrelevant gilding
Will not give us any amends.
But in count of days of ahead,
Leaving the past in the past,
We understand that it is not the end,
Our life has not passed.
The game goes on! And we are on the stage!
All mistakes bring at once fame or shame,
We are judged and appraised in the backstage
For the merits of our game.
We leave our costumes unchangeable,
Our game play is still so cool,
This means we are still young and sensible,
And gray hair just matches old school.
In the beginning was the Word
In the beginning was the Word
Then day and night come smooth,
And comprehension of eternal truth
About the world,
And life,
About that from the first record,
No matter how deep you dive,
In instant of the birth,
Every one of us
his fate
is moving, —
his own, different,
And human,
Significant, or light,
Bearing pain,
Or love,
The joy of days,
Or the sorrow of night.
And the only thing
For all of us is definite, —
We have the gift or treasure
To get the power of words.
Words make the soul feel
unmeasured,
And pain without words —
Unbearable.
Don’t use them to mislead!
And do not say at all,
What’s wrong or just absurd! —
More truly – no measure, —
In the beginning was the Word
Without love
The power keeps silence.
And hearts are made of steel,
that are so calm at night!
And love is vulnerable, you feel.
And you, my strong friend,
You are not at love’s heel,
Be silent, silent, silent
About you need me and all…
With sorrow, we don’t deal,
My hands will not be broken, —
I am stronger than a wall!
And only love is tender overall.
For my co-author
An autumn road, and small woodlands
Standing aside the way,
They are now, like curtains,
For what invisible stays.
The wind is whirling them, no care,
Tearing flames from leaves and away,
And aspens’ sharp bright flare
cannot be handled with sky’s blue veil.
And somewhere in these woodlands
My soul and heart are still alive,
And life in torn-up rags and clods
still, can produce beautiful words.
Herbarium
L. H.
Until the fleur-de-luce rises,
Under the snow its head,
Take chamomiles, as compromises,
Larissa, from the last year’s land.
They scent of the heat and the summer,
And it seems like for a long time,
Through winters, and winds, road numbers
Your happiness knocks at your door in a rhyme.
Love rules the World
This simple world
Is trite and cute, —
Houses, trees, and fruit flies,
The blue veil of the sky,
Quiet autumn in yard piece,
And your neighbor in fleece.
We don’t hear storm sounds
Here, in the place of silence,
We believe what we’ve heard:
Love rules the World!
To the only one unequaled
I will not get tired of thanking the fate,
And won’t find out, why I am given this gift
To be with you, to love you and elate
And to live with the memory that flies so swift.
The years go by so lightly,
And you become even more loved,
My hand is in your hand so tightly,
And no other variant to come.
To spite adversities and years
Each other we will gift the warm,
If something happens, I, my dear,
Will give you my inflaming heart.
Through the envy of heaven
I wait for your words and hands, —
I can’t hide from myself on subconsciousness level!
There are no sins in parting sands,
There is only the envy of heaven.
There’s still mist of disbelief
To my long way to you.
My chosen one, do not believe,
Just – don’t forget, beg you!
This wrong and miserable age
Among the fuss of sins
There’s no place for love and main stage,
Saying nothing about