The war goes on.The war goes on.War runs.War flies.Today I rememberwith what passionin my childhoodwe used to shoot at the…
* * * Love is bitter by separation, by almonds, a ruined era, November, the splinter that sticks out in…
* * * Is it possible to get tired of many circumstances, of monotonous and monotonous life, of course it…
* * * Every nation and its country has a time of rise, growth and prosperity. It is true that…
* * * When we talk about life and death, it is hard to deny that when we are there,…
*** How to realizewhen we are standingbetween the worldsunder the watchfullook of the CreatorAnd someone of usthe same as we…
* * *Creator,take me throughthe warto the shore of childhood,where so beautiful and naiveLife began,where the toy daysnot knowing tirednessin…
* * *At zero of the warin the very heartof pain,right here,now,in solarcaptivitywe don’t havelife without youany more.In the corridors…
* * *Cyrillic script of sandsin the sand clockis similarto the barkhans ,dunes,ridgesand evento the tornstringsof violin,to the pain of…
*** I dreamed of your eyes - islands of loneliness in the ocean of human suffering and shot at point-blank…
While night declaims, essential peacefully melts, dissolves, disappears in the cloudless air of life-giving oblivion. On the top of the…
*** The last city, of the last star. Holidays of happiness. Years of doubt, years of silence. You at the…
*** Childhood – flower pollen, garden of time is fading, prairie of expectations, silk grass, wind is playing the violin.…
*** Givingriddles light,burdenedwith a mystery of summer,frozen in the herbariumof omenin the museumof poet’s voice. Translated by Nataliya Ogienko.
Bach’s singing of war faces. Don’t ask why there are no birds. Why the ground is plowed with fear. Why the air walls are stained with…