Author of quotes: Viktor Sosnora

Who said
that fall
it's the dying?
Autumn was upon
Pushkin and Blok,
showers shone
in the clouds-cylinders.
Autumn means:
the lifting of the blockade
with apples!
Tutu tea!
The grapes in the glasses!
Autumn drives soda
Volga on the gravel,
building your special
deciduous chart.
As the wagons of hay,
curve moves
litochorella,
istokenvalid!

White night, white night,
spikes of lightning.
And the grasshopper, as the bell
me ringing.

There is no halt. The entire fate of the pass!
Zaporozhye!
Not the river Jordan!
If you want to betray - betray,
Hurry up! Era is not the same!
Now thirty for I will not give.
Too much selfless Jude.
Hurry! Cock of Calvary sings.
Hallowed be thy sacrilege...

The sail soars! He plans to close
Shine - forty feet.
will there be a storm? unchecked squirt,
anger in the green pupils!
Will not be no one?
Would it be. Pass.
Fatty bird wise pierce
fish lip bone.
There goes the fickle boy-Parus.
Does he believe in a storm runner?
Here the vertical dash - sail...
That's really for a visible trait.
Storm will be ocean, will be reborn,
periodically, weight,
but the sail did not return.
Only some. Sail.
And that's all.

Leaves, leaves! parachutes
with domes of al.
You, rains, raspolozhit
asphalt flipcharts!
Time spinning in motors,
dies in the milkweed.
Leaves me shouting: - We are drowning!
others: - We are flying!

The tram passed and the noise stopped.
What to do, to wait, to leave,
To leave, broke down front door
breaking of the night the alarm clock.
From room idylls
Go on the bridge to smoke.
Knocking the alarm clock.
Detailed, even the sound.
Alarm clock. Hands folded
stuck to the twelve.
The arrows are supposed to
twelve to cuddle them.
The arrows, they are not difficult
to meet hourly,
to meet for a second,
and again for an hour to say goodbye.
And we for a second
it is not common,
and even very difficult
us every time to say goodbye.

Well! in summer it is easier. Summer treats.
All swing
we are not we!
Well. Summer's over, of course.
You need to wait for winter.

Above the Poconos the evening bells,
the moving water blocks
the bottomless glow of the waves,
space glare fish.
Don't need the South foreign powers,
when on the branches in the form of numbers
as the tears of light shaking
slightly feathered Chicks
When the Ladoga rays
diverse as Siberia,
when the Home sounds
evening bells of my fate.

In a world of blue,
in a sea of tears
torpedoes swim words.
While underwater.
But seriously.

Vanity sow
devils and gods,
the darkness and languor.
It's their game
light and death
secrets and signs.
There is our truth:
the sun, as the heart
beats on us!

The sun knows his going down.
The moon knows his tides.
The ant knows their tomorrow.
Heron knows his chickens.
Everyone knows the sun is a celestial body,
the moon pocket mirror sun
ant - dwarf animal
the Heron is one characteristic of the leg.

The prophet - rock, about the light - the poet
me - there is no fate and no sanctuaries.
I just in the world of no place.
I can't complain. It really happened.

Why did you go out to the people and not out to sea?