Author of quotes: Valery Petrosyan

September for pine eyelashes.

calling, spinning, a fallen leaf.

bygone winters drafts.

Valery Mazmanyan

Valery Mazmanyan

kisses the sun in the morning.

and a fallen leaf, and melted snow.

What's the feeling? - Spring thunderstorms:
noisy and disturbing at night,
thin hands of birch
the month that was born rocks.
Cry - not on time met,
and what we wanted - did not work,
snow - petals of inflorescences -
fly from freezing cherries.
Give time - and become tame,
and memory is both punishment and mercy,
as dreams remember night -
remembered, immediately forgotten.
Everything is fine in general,
melancholy can be hidden in paper...
and blue shadows on white
make up the January saga.

rest in warmth and comfort.

maybe a new round?

By morning exhausted by insomnia
sigh - not those, probably, waited,
fluttering with lemongrass butterfly
a leaf on a rain needle.
Aspens are painted with blush,
and the clouds gain weight,
quiet wrapped in fog
cold autumn forest.
From the whistle of the wind, the puddle wrinkles,
and you put everything on trial,
and yellowness sick grove
a week rushes into delirium.
Maple leaf with the palm of a twisted palm
ruffled the hair of the bush...
and someone in the fall
put everything in its place.

At the mirror you are quiet -
wrinkles and gray strand,
and we, like late flowers,
we do not believe - it's time to wither.
And in the memory of the night thunderstorm
spring day and May thunder,
what autumn without tears,
without regrets for the former.
And be you sinful, be holy,
for a bird flock do not take off ...
and rain with a silver broom
sweeps birch copper.
Valery Mazmanyan

Watched knapweed, and plantain,
like butterflies ran from the glade the rain,
top kissed the Daisy red
and was fiddling with her starched ruff.
The clouds lazily crawled to the North,
shaking soaking wet blonde clover
panting hard, the foliage thick,
and the day of departure knew a flock of birds.
The bee was buzzing - a fleeting summer
and shadow lace was made of light,
pigeons flocked, we asked for bread...
and in the pools of your double touched the sky.

In puddles, clouds float,
the last snow has withered,
and pine trees keep the blue
on bronze shoulders.
In all keys sing the streams,
that's all in your hands,
walk important rooks
in shabby coats.
Rain - the pearly dew,
blizzards in memory of years,
I like the fire of love, bear
purple roses bouquet.
Get the flowers, I'm not breathing,
hear - hot...
and bluish dove soul
on white shoulder.