Author of quotes: David Samoilov

Smelled of straw in the barn
The body is grass and wind,
Lips - wild strawberry,
Hair - a wild Apple tree.
Was in the early dawn
Light, fresh thunderstorms.
We woke up to. And again
Sleep was forgotten as children.
In the morning she was gone
Sleepy-eyed and barefoot,
With large daisies knocking
Skirt slanted drops.

Drinking vodka under the crispy cabbage.
In the window the moon. Outside you hear the crunch
Thoughtful steps to pervoputok.
All this together brings sadness.
Drink. Pour. In the second, the third.
The steps fell silent. The evening is quiet again.
And experience four decades
Sadly and sadly included in verse.
I understand if not humor,
Stabbed to death would have cucumber.
But if so happened that you're not dead, -
Sit and drink with a lost person.

In this hour, the genius sits down to write poetry.
At this hour, a hundred talents sit down to write poetry.
In this hour thousand of professionals sit down to write poetry.
At this hour, a hundred thousand scribblers sit down to write poetry.
In this hour of lonely, a million maidens sit down to write poetry.
At this hour, ten million lovers boys sit down to write poetry.
The result of this Grand event
Born one poem.
Or a genius, striking out written
Goes to visit.

On love is right
Jealousy and living without rights.
It grows like grass,
She's stronger than herbs.
It grows in the winter
On ice and snow.
And I'm alive
Can not fight...

Lie that you love! If false
Good, then bless you.
Surely better than the rusty knife
And cut vein?
Yes! Pretend! I know the truth
Unbearable, impossible.
Cherish untruth grace
As in the cradle carefully.

The passions that have no talent
Pledged suicide
Or, murder. Passion Danta
Equal to him. Grow branching.
Passion is not a type of adultery
In it blindness is adjacent to the Epiphany
With the immensity of the refined measure:
Merge God with his creation.
It desire not. And flesh, it does not smell.
There is a spiritual passion. Everything else is a lie.
And Krivorotov the image of lady Macbeth
Under the apron hides a knife.

I forgive their enemies
And sometimes even regret.
And argue with them, do not want
Because in the dispute would prevail.

First love is called every love to which was only a hobby.

Oh, as I later realized,
Why do I exist!
Why chasing heart
Pumping blood alive.
And that sometimes in vain
Gave passions to lie down!..
And that it is impossible to guard against,
And that it is impossible to beware of...

Ready the autumn
To blue loading.
Smoke, cloud and bird
Fly slowly.
Waiting for snow. Listopad
Recently otsosali.
Huge and spacious
In the autumn hemisphere.

ZIM have there names.
One of them was called Natalia.
And it was the twinkle, the mystery,
Cold and blue.
Elena was called winter,
And Martha, and Katherine.
And I sometimes winter long
Fell in love and went crazy.
And there were days, and the snow fell,
As a warm down winter hazy.
And this winter was named Anna,
She was more beautiful than all.

- You'll never be mine,
You my never will be,
In reality I won't like
And in the dream I was not fooled...
<...>
- You'll never be mine,
My you never will.
In reality don't get me first
And in the dream I was not lure.

Pity gentle piercing love.
Compassion prevails there.
In the way another soul soul suffers.
The selfishness is coming off the track.
The passion that recently raged
And everybody wanted to carry around,
Cease,
rising suddenly
Dedicated to sorrow.

And everyone I loved, I love no longer!