Author of quotes: Semyon Isaakovich Kirsanov

I'm looking for transparency,
not ghostly
I'm looking for appreciation,
and not admitted.

Immortality no and let!
The hell it is - "immortality"?
Short lives descent
with the task sorazmerit.
Face it, smarter:
decay and iron!
The fearlessness - that's what I
needs to desperately.
Of all known cusw
today, older,
I main want:
utter fearlessness.

Even die of thirst,
though zaklina nature
and will not enter you twice
in the same water.
And that love which
flowing like the milky Way,
no, you can't re-I
as long as live, to step.

My life you're gone, you're gone,
you were not just empty, not gone.
And still you, just a trail
the trail rocket glowing years.

My home, my earth,
my swirly ball!
The sun in the hot hands
shaking his head, like a Potter,
turns moist clay
with love clinging,
rounding caressing,
giving birth to you.

The second half of life.
Brushed on the temples me
by flashing a mirror prism
coming to the end of the day.

Each of us is a different country
something native land recalls.
There is nothing strange - all
just the same planet.

Free me from thoughts:
with me or with others.
Free me from thoughts:
love me or not love.

Bracelets - the remnants of the chains.
And in the same way, of course
on the handle of your submissive
shiny gold ring.

That is necessary for the poet? for full of luck
any of gold in a savings Bank or stone cottages,
no uncle with the inheritance, nor the garden in the Crimea,
no rank, no dignity does not need him.

Speech - hardy family.
I, in fact, in Michurinets.
Above the stems of the words - my
resistant primernosti.
Other gifts September
Hibari forests fall;
and I herbarium dictionary
forest dialect fragmented.

That is necessary for the poet? To cell disintegration -
to love, and you will be a poet that is necessary,
and the one that is loved, you will understand, therefore,
what should such a poet to love!

Soon the snow will run streams,
soon there will be a field in the bread.
I don't want the bird in hand
and you want pie in the sky.

Death is no more!
Born grasshopper
five minutes ago -
a strange little man
green nosed:
He, like the buzzer,
the song his own,
because I
five minutes died...
Death is no more!
Death is no more!
No more!
No!