Душа поэта
Я грязный неделю, стою на пороге
Между входом домой и в храм к господу богу.
И пусть я ценю здесь любое мгновение,
Но здесь в двух стенах мне нет вдохновения.
Чувствуешь, но вспоминаешь ли?
Видишь ли, но представляешь ли?
Чувствуешь, но понимаешь ли?
Слышишь, но слышишь ли, слышишь, слышишь?.
Слышишь, душа поэта, охладевает рядом где-то…
Взгляд на серые дома и лица.
Свет не излучает даже солнце.
Жёлтым электричеством на кухне одиночества,
Так несвоевременно, так угасает творчество.
Просыпаюсь я один, вижу неба потолок,
И мне так же дорог его каждый кусок.
Безответная взаимная любовь ко всему,
Я в погоне за тем, что вот сейчас… ну вот... вот тут…
Кажется, что так будет каждый раз.
Я в погоне за тем, что вот смотри… ну вот… сейчас…
Poet’s soul
I am dirty standing on the threshold for a week
Between the entrance to home and to temple of the Lord.
And even if I appreciate here every moment,
In two walls I do not have inspiration.
You feel but do you remember?
You see but do you imagine?
You feel but do you understand?
You listen but do you hear, hear, hear?
Do you hear the poet’s soul is cooling down nearby somewhere…
Glance on grey houses and faces.
Sun even doesn’t shed the light.
Yellow electricity on the kitchen of loneliness,
Creation dies away so untimely.
I wake up alone and see the sky of ceiling,
And every piece of it is dear to me.
Unrequited mutual love to everything.
I am in chase of that is now… right here…
It seems that it will be every time.
I am in chase of that is… look… right here… now…
The soul of the poet
I'm dirty for a week, stand on the threshold
Between the entrance home and to the temple to the Lord God.
And let me appreciate any moment here,
But here in two walls I have no inspiration.
You feel, but do you remember?
Do you see, but can you imagine?
You feel, but you understand?
You hear, but do you hear, hear, hear?.
You hear, the poet’s soul, cools nearby somewhere ...
A look at the gray houses and faces.
Light does not even radiate the sun.
Yellow electricity in the kitchen of loneliness,
So untimely, so fades creativity.
I wake up alone, I see the sky ceiling,
And every piece is also dear to me.
Unrequited mutual love for everything,
I'm in pursuit of what is now ... well ... here ...
It seems that it will happen every time.
I am in pursuit of what you look ... well ... now ...
Poet’s Soul
I am Dirty Standing on the Threshold for a Week
Between The Entrance to Home and to Temple of the Lord.
And event IF I Apprecate Gere Eve Moment,
In Two Walls I Do Not Have Inspiration.
You Feel But Do You Remember?
You see But do you imagine?
You Feel But Do You Understand?
You listen but you hear, hear, hear?
Do you hear the poet’s soul is cooling down Nearby Somewhere ...
Glance on Grey Houses and Faces.
Sun Even DOESN’T SHED THE LIGHT.
Yellow Electricity on the Kitchen of Loneliness,
Creation Dies AWAY SO Untimely.
I Wake Up Alone and See the Sky of Ceiling,
And EVERY PIECE of it is dear to me.
Unrequited Mutual Love to EVERYTHING.
I am in chase of that is now ... right hee ...
It seems that it will be event.
I am in chase of that is ... look ... right heere ... now ...
