Author of quotes: Michael Lysenkov

The snow shimmered. Lights shone
In the web of branches all around:
Youth sweetheart, you see, you see
Looked now in my house?
The quiet echo of past laughter,
Hops enthralled meetings?
Through the frosty darkness to go
As bridges burn cigarette...

Downhill, downhill,
Into the abyss without a ladder.
In the Jurassic, in the wind
Youth rages.

I'm catching wind ready
Campfire cold
The rustle of departed years,
The reflections not being.

This life is not too tough
Neither you nor me.
Not extinguish my fate,
Warm light in the window:
Let the last moth
Right on the bed
Flies luck to the house
To spend the winter!

Fading cornflowers
In the darkness of the fields.
The company time clock
On your Desk.

Goodbye - I'm sorry. To bite the bullet
Not stomach used to sing.
Waning days. Heart is on the wane.
And it's getting harder to hang around in the crowd.

Eyes of destiny steel and clear
Forget for a moment - and the shot will miss.
Decrepit, sad, flutter, and drunk -
Fall poems with stones in a sling.

Measured time and dreams and things.

Both on the field on overgrown
Flew white smoke.
Here below is the first newly-fallen snow,
Beneath the snow the young.
Three birch trees we'll lose them.
In the three stacks, in three pines.
Let nothing repeats itself:
Neither the courage nor the spring.

Acrid anger flavored cool life
Disunity and prison.
The tighter the teeth grip, prohibit: hold on,
This wind yet mine.
And the reality is monstrous the dreams of the homeless,
And fattens all redneck.
Only these stars can't take that away already
Only the sky to my death.

Up the heat survived
For a year old.
Dust cars
Driven by APR.
The troubles we patted the
Feeling burned.
Sparrows bathed in the dust.

Pick a trail to his liking.
If you have money and you're not old,
Several villages, pick one.
All-inclusive already: weed, vodka,
From group sex to the massacre.

Days of vanity, endless flashing entities.
Books, poems - only for the poor souls of new clothes.
I've long clearer squeak Tits,
The teenagers at the bus stop.

I forget the smell of chimney smoke,
As at the dawn of the rooster beckoning the morning.
A strange feeling of guilt could not overcome;
If not do what you promised someone.