Rain. Galina Intunshina. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Galina Intunshina
Издательство: СУПЕР Издательство
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Поэзия
Год издания: 2018
isbn: 978-5-907137-39-4
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old torn jacket.

      I want to get rid of trash,

      I don’t need an attic for it.

      I throw out everything or burn

      It’s impossible to do it in another way

* * *

      Sometimes I don’t know what to write

      Perhaps I’m not so modern.

      I like to read Dostoevsky, Lermontov

      Inks and a white sheet help me when I am bored.

      There are people for whom I can write…

      I don’t need praises or good words

      My soul writes: ready!

      Criticism is self-destruction,

      Almost without words – to armoury,

      Less for myself, more for others

      It is not a poem, it’s an aphorism

* * *

      You say the name in a whisper…

      The wind reminds me words.

      A boring autumn passed,

      Winter came.

      Winter returns me to life!

      I’m covered with hoarfrost, silver

      I didn’t gamboled so for a long time,

      With white linen.

      And ice shades around

      Snowflakes – a beautiful pattern,

      Stars became brighter,

      The Great Bear sleeps.

      I like summer and autumn!

      But winter is a fairy-tale home.

      I taught you the beautiful

      And you must take a dare,

      I want to fascinate you.

      Step by step, mildly and quietly,

      Treading on the old tightrope

      Carefully, looking,

      Being afraid of height and moving aside,

      I almost hold.

      I need go a little to the end.

      I hold my breath and then I take a run

* * *

      You are sad – but I’m fine,

      No love – it doesn’t matter,

      You know the truth, but I keep silence,

      If you want offend – I don’t forgive

* * *

      She is red-haired, beautiful, flying through waves

      She throws open a white-wings shining dress

      Has a smile, there is a flower in the hand,

      Angel for darling,

      Demon for masters.

* * *

      You are somewhere near…

      So not far from here…

      In open written note

      You are as the wind now here, now there,

      Playing with sound «half-and-half»

      You were almost caught up…

      We stumbled early,

      Deciding together – overseas,

      Somebody more and somebody less…

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