Author of quotes: Yury Iosifovich Vizbor

It ended with a soft sign.

Where is my darling and the kettle with a whistle.

I myself pushed her to turn.

Filled with music of the heart!
Will have holidays from weekdays.
His tormentors forget.
Here square take a walk to the end.
Find favorite the door
Where keen delight
We will make the quiet burden of their losses.

In the simple things peace look.
Let you dream
The window in the night, the fire in the furnace
And cute girl.
And that candle blue
Would swim in the night is large,
His fate to another fate
In night mix.
<...>
And if a pair of swans,
Each other love,
Forgive forgive us,
Sorry neprostyh.
Here you have from midnight the keys
Let you dream
The window in the night, the fire in the furnace
And cute girl.

Well, how do you tell what is the mountain?
The mountain is the sky covered in stone and snow,
And in the sky the frost unearthly, unearthly heat
And the wind like this, except the sky, was not.
<...>
And so it falls on the heart of the mountain over the mountain,
Their joy and heaviness, wedded height.
We go back out, even though we weren't sweet sometimes
It is better to a heavy heart than the heart is empty.

There is a secret sadness in the spring of initial,
When the last snow we were very sorry...

You assert that this wound -
Not fatal episode,
It hurts - it is not strange,
All eventually healed.
Well, I guess
I seriously get chills.
Dear, dear,
I'm not wounded, I was killed.
In the middle of the steppe snow
I lie down, and the blood-curdling,
And boom Pecheneg
Stuck in the heart of love.
The wind curls plays
Lonely horse is...
Dear, dear,
I'm not wounded, I was killed.
You can hear the words,
Smiling barely,
You barely understand
These very words.
You naively suggest
I cure offense...
Dear, dear,
I'm not wounded, I was killed.

The husband comes, darkness guruma,
Ahead bears belly
In the sweat suit
The TV goes.
My hand lays on his back -
Wow, would not touch me,
Unloved, unloved,
Nelyubimogo mine.
<...>
I stare at the road -
A month on sky go.
The day passed - and the glory of God,
That's really new is coming.
I need somewhere to go, whether that
To good people and the grass...
I'm alone in the open field,
In a crowded city of Moscow.

And it will be so: cry night treble
Rusty and brittle leaf caught in the moon
And white-white snow falls from heaven landing,
So black cities to give the blue.
<...>
Friends, friends, to start all over again,
On damp banks to split their tents,
Roll b on the boards of the pier heated
And see the smoke of distant fires.

There is no wiser and more beautiful means of anxiety,
Than a night song of tyres.
Long gray threads of worn-out roads
Darn wounds of the soul.
<...>
The two ends there is a road, but don't lie to yourself -
We back is impossible.
Thank God, my buddy, we have enemies,
So, there are probably friends.
Do not believe the separation, old friend, their lap -
Just a dream by God.
Another day goes by, my friend
You believe in the road.
No road endings, but it is the result:
The road is difficult, but worse without roads.

Will tell you the mystery one:
How many times in the world disappeared
Empire, religion, and regalia
And left the city on the bottom
But through fires, disasters and blood
One well done pantomime,
And not invulnerable
Was a girl named Love.
There Is A Love. Sound of her steps
As the echo of a long-awaited date
Her steps concern the creation,
And between stars of different circles.
Before her equal slave and the master.
Her transcend the poison of flattery or anger.
When she ever comes to visit,
In our house comes happiness forever.

Do not make yourself an idol
From small things -
From the furnishings and apartments
From doctor visits,
From Sundays and Saturdays,
From reflections on the fate of.
In the end, not at our age
The depression to afford.
Do not make yourself an idol,
Taking the everyday battles
Of the inevitable and sad
Calculations of your profits.
And maybe you went halfway around the world
In the pursuit of his happiness -
Do not make yourself an idol
Neither from itself nor from him.
Do not make yourself an idol
From memory their land,
Of those soldiers and commanders,
That victory came.
Of truths - choose simple
That is not subject to the times
And make yourself an Russia,
How we did it!

My love, Russia,
Love while you live,
Rains your slant,
Glades thy grass,
Roads your wanderings,
Dashing your kids.
And no excuses
Not loving you.
My love, Russia,
You are every day stronger.
You chest wore
Soldiers at war,
The overcoat hid
And on hands carried
From bullets protected
Grief saved.
My love, Russia,
A lot on you
Adversity drizzling
Autumn.
You're in dal blue
Star of hope live
My love, Russia,
My salvation!