Author of quotes: Vadim Shefner

Over fifty, and all are waiting for something.
No God and no heavenly flight,
Do not expect joy, not trouble,
Don't expect miracles - just waiting for something.
The owner of eternal and short-lived guest
Here on Earth, where decay and incorruption
Where in splendid granites are cast
Nature long anticipation,-
Waiting for something, what no name,
We are waiting with depths and clouds.
Darkness eternal and unquenchable light
Nothing before what I'm expecting for centuries.
Waiting for something in richness and poverty,
In times of troubles and in the years of construction;
Waiting for something from the Universe where
Matter - only form expectations.

We are all as gods, sky
Live on the best of planets.
It rain sprinkles and snow
Sometimes our sweeps the trail.
But cloud tail
Suddenly dropping heaven
And through habitual phenomena
Lurking miracles.
...And the moonlight on the roofs of buildings,
And cold - as if custom -
The coils of the Aurora Borealis
Unfold for us
And the memory of the General miracle
Stars twinkle in a sleepy haze,
Not to forget the people
How to live well on earth.

Visited Muse
Of the Union member
And verses he put on his anguish:
- I, Lyudmila,
Without a knife killed
You go in the evening to the river.
In the forest go green
I stand under the maple,
I will choose strong, high-quality females...
There is a rope, soap...
Proschevay, Liudmila!..
Sob moose, get bored badger.

Don't be jealous me to be alone,
This jealousy I do not understand.
Sometimes the person you want
One to be one.
Measles, sometimes that of dawn,
Clear in the morning silence
With trees, with the trail barely visible
I meet alone.
And, stepping to the morning light,
See a happy and alone,
What would anyone in the world
To see would be the two of us could not.
No, anyway I don't want,
I do not aspire from light into darkness -
Sometimes you just want everyone
With the world to meet one.

And somewhere where we will not return
In early childhood, in adolescence, away, -
Still jealous, and laugh,
And I believe that arriving ships.
At the age there is not to be excused, -
And there are not crushed herbs in a meadow
And Penelope in bleached calico
All waiting for me on the long shore.
Sitting, hands covering the knee,
Face-to-fading dawn,
Miraculously, intact -
Like a moth, stuck in amber.

The birds the wind doesn't need a tailwind:
Though he tries to help them
But it them becomes difficult
To manage their plumage.
Let sits back a century in the swamp
The one who is waiting for a fair wind.
After all, the freedom and precision in flight
Not associated, and the counter gives.

Autumn jumped a yellow lynx
On the forest, the bushes of willow,
The whole day Golden leaves
Downstream the river flows.
In the world there is no death, no decay,
Light air - wine drunk,
And the pearl loose foam
Coastal glitters roots.
Who lie and say a sad fall,
That she poor and naked,
We also in this river throw -
Directly in gold, in pearls!

It is unfortunate that you did not know the troubles.
Light your way, light your labors.
Let the blind say: you all luck
But I would not want to walk with you on a hike.
I've seen these. You're good, as long as fed,
As long as your piece you produced easily.
To the first shake you and clever, and knew how
Before the first drink sober before the first battle dared.
With my friend I would go Hiking,
Though in life, telling him and no luck.
Victory, he knew, but drank trouble,
His difficult journey and hard work.
He is not at the Beck and call of fate,
He was up and down, his footsteps rude,
This will not fail, he hardened life.
His luck is that he's a loser.

Who was of us happier - unknown
All were wrong and sincerely
And fair games there are no losers.

And it is not necessary under the old age fear
Or believe hope is empty
That otherworldly dreams we dream
Over the last, over the black line.
On the way, stepping autumn,
Do not fear departing days,
Before the darkness of the gathering shadows,
But in the darkness there are no shadows.

Off Russian literature,
Spoken beauty;
Retreat into the unknown
Speech of the Russian miracles.
Hundreds of words of native and apt,
Snykov, voice-losing,
Cooped up like birds in cages,
Asleep in thick dictionaries.

It is so and not otherwise,
You tell me, my friend, don't disagree:
People are living richer
But poorer it became.
Villas, jeans, slides, dresses...
Prices, the figures carry the end -
Abstract concepts
Fading.

It's cold here tonight, in this lonely garden,
From the square the snow here is so cold and homeless.
In the home no steps up into the transparent
And an invisible door knocks gently and modestly.
At the feast of invisible glass voices,
And night talk convincingly clear and sad.
- I was on the MiG, I for a moment, I bask in a quarter of an hour.
- You're forever you're forever, you will never let it go.
- You dreamed me, and now you're taken alive.
You are forever awake for a solid wall of oblivion.
You're already on the snowflakes on the black ring is disjointed,
You in the earthly mirror to find their reflection.