Author of quotes: Alexander Zakharov. Page 2

Let the swaying leaves, like waves on a wild shore.
Let throughout the atmosphere the expanse of Land.
The magic will come even to those who do not believe in it.
If we accept the wind, and we would could.

Do not be angry at the tears that had accumulated in his eyes.
For me stay. For the flowers on my hands.
You'll forget everything you were thinking into the darkness.
You hold on to me.
And I'll help you.

We'll go somewhere far away,
Instead of rivers of chocolate milk,
Instead of the sun down to our city lantern,
And for the first time to call would be birds and not the ringer.

Good girls know how to shoot.
Don't look in focus, and lead bullets in the back.
They learned to smoke and in the forests to disappear,
And silently to pray, as a mother, hugging a tree.
Good girls know about our war
And boy, sleeves rolled up, eager eagerly and boldly.
On the third, fourth, seventh and tenth wave
Fight like men, and sometimes do not dare.
Good girls do not notice colors
Who gives them Death before each date.
They answer:
- Our squad is not ready to die!
And light boots race for a new job.

I read your text the pigeons that sit in the window
And they shake their heads and flapping their wings.
Let me be that Nature, and it alone.
Maybe the Wind and the Sun got the best rhyme will tell...

Well, let that morning it was raining.
He did not hit our night route.
(Puddle reared - not pass.
The line of the crown bend).
And now the city is so beautiful!
A handful of stars shared the Night.
Blanket on the cloak changed,
Day, yawn, go away.

Will be all.
Not will only
Traces of my feet in the sand.
The water is not salty will be
bitter
On the lunar holey piece.
Will zashlepal autumn
at delicate hands
In a puddle and the waves make.
Will carry me
white horses,
And grass will replace the granite.
Merge landscape
One little drop,
Which I will keep.
It is better to cherish something in the heart,
Isn't it,
Bypassing the soul trap?

Remain the air, left the sea,
All will be as always.
On this dreary, azure expanse
The eye will drip water.
Gulls will remain, will remain the wind
And a couple of forgotten ideas.
Remain the sun, children stay
Who will grow up.

Harder than stone - tired heart.
Softer cloud - thought out world.
I'm trying to escape, to get warm
On hand in black and white Syrah.
Sir, sir, sir, You have a cold
And infected me with a cold.
You really all forgotten.
Well, okay. I won't
To comfort You coffee grounds
And tea leaves with mint and honey.
Christen You the new "best"
You - "his Holiness my Lord."

The epicenter of the soul and the equator of the body.
If I did Land on a moon,
In the tin, really don't want to
That's such a "companion." Easier with chalk
Draw a gray circle on his back.
The beast, who was expelled from the enclosure,
Without saying how he live in this world.
Someone smart called it a "new era".
I call it simply "loss of faith
And hope that you can love".

I have woven in my life canvas of the big intrigues
And no one calls someone like me, a man.
I sought out the black knowledge in a thousand books
As black people, as if they stirred with ash.
And the soul does not pass inspection for cleanliness,
And hands dirty as the thoughts from foul desires.
I appreciate the weaker sex only for its beauty.
I don't care about women's grievances and the universal suffering.

Hold me, Fox. So he knows how to hug
The Sun sunrise and stars at night.
Anyone on the planet, alas, does not understand
Why we are attached to each other firmly.
I look at people. Very strange people.
Can easily throw, humiliate, offend,
And sometimes all those with whom their fate will bring,
Can once - and to horror to hate.
I fear the worst on the planet, my friend,
Where everything is, but is something to consider and write
Anyone not loving and not seeing around.
To not believe and not looking for a miracle.

We were not born on time and a little bit poetic.
We were not born in the city called indecent
White-deserted houses, loud breathing polustanke.
We were born at the wrong time. No one conceived equal.
The gulls they call us over the sea that washes our past.
Star scream and fall, scattering across the sky crumbs.
We were born of the forbidden. We for the world itself being scratched
Hands and heart with feathers. In the oceans of the swim events.

She was very, unbearably beautiful.
I read avidly Scandinavian sad tale.
Brave, disturbing typhoons and bright colors.
Lived through the times, but never vinyl.