Author of quotes: Anatoly Mariengof. Page 2

Even dirty as vendors
The hems
People who love you.
We painfully unhealthy
Now
Purity eyes
Savonarola,
Heartburn
Piety
And flattery,
David's Psalms,
When from God
We cut,
As the coupons from the series.

Hard labor will bring us friendship,
In chains songs.
On the day silver,
Filling century jug,
Over the edge PEREPLESNIN.
I will suck water mouths,
The wells of the Ryazan villages - you.
When they open the gates
Our books,
Melodious rhythms will loop prescript.
And there will be two ways for generations:
As the herds will be dutifully stanza
The Golden footprints Mariengof
And where, riding as a foal, month,
Whiz rode Yesenin.

Night, as a tear flowed from huge eyes
And the roof slid on to the eyelashes.
Rose sadness, like Lazarus,
And ran into the streets to weep and to confess.
Rushed at neck - all shied away
And shouting: crazy!
And of the tympanic membrane VAPI fear
Beat, as in the ringing of diamonds.

Tale, tale, story,
Fiction.
I don't know... Restless
Tiltil and what he -
Looking for love: "there, There - there
On the tops of aspens, pines!"
And she probably
Krasnoperov
Long ago flew to the lake
The distant sky.

The firmament the firmament for eddies zyblemye,
The sanctity of the whip whistling whip
And frail the body of Christ on the rack
Usablues in the Cheka.
Well, well, goodbye us sinners,
Save as Calvary robber,-
Thy blood, the blood wildly
Spills like water from the washstand.
Shout "Maria, Maria, whom he cherished! -
The dust would be at your feet kissing for abortion!."
But now: on raspalennoe our land
Only I - man proud.

I came to you, ancient chamber,
Dark men woke with a copper hood,
Abandoned call, a dogs liver
In the name of the red miracle.
Tell me mayor,
Give the right to punish and pardon.
Ile others do not possess Lagna
In short, a sword and a pitchfork?
People will moan net
From the court of my right -
You were going to attack
Muscovy Golden.
Flooded barley young blood
With good cellars and basements,
Ushkuiniki to swim downstream
And the Volga and to the ridges of the Urals.
I myself from the dark folk,
Al not fathom oblique shoulder?
I call bell hood
Behind you, the ancient chamber.

"Hey, man!..."
And the person goes with the invoice.
And the man pays this age
With a wide generosity of a machine gun.

Hey man, it sounds good you?
In the face! in the face! in the face!

Life ran with the mountain on skis,
Simple, I understand the law:
The closer one is to the animal, the closer -
And the happier he is poor.

Yesenin said:
- Nothing, Roofing, all is formed.
Was life, and nothing has formed.

Power such not to find, which b shook of the Russians disastrous penchant for art no typhus louse, nor the County and the mud ankle-deep, no ressortira, neither war nor revolution, neither an empty stomach nor rubbed elbows rukavichki.
We can say, delicate nature.

I am 40 years old. A few days ago, in the Summer garden controllata girl about four years old, pulling his mother's sleeve and said, "look, Look, Mama, this old uncle same hat, like our dads". Children's furry little hand in the glove was clearly pointing at me... Old man! Huh? Old uncle ... And I was upset for a good quarter of an hour. And today in a thrift store near the General staff, just the white lady in the rotunda of the old Teddy called me "young man". And I from the Admiralty to the corner of the Foundry, now Prospekt Volodarskogo, came with a blissfully idiotic smile across the face.
Oh what a painful age! Painful its double affinity to the youth, which is unattainable, and age, which is inevitable.

Every day is a new Chapter of the Bible.
Each page of thousands of generations will be great
We are the ones about which I will say:
- Lucky in 1917 lived.
And you still yell: killed!
Still squandering hnike!
Stupid head,
Isn't yesterday crushed, like a dove
Car
Frantically jumped out of the garage?!

Well you, brothers, to hell in the teeth!
Count not the days of old.
Until the last days of youth will be Luba
With all zeal to friendship and guilt.
Who of the singers are not sleeping in the gutter
Of glory dreamed in the arms of the lamp!
Live without the wisdom of the crafty,
Having fallen in love on the ears, sing.
Burning of the heart when the native land
Iron sends a harsh enemy.
Poets of the liberty young
More than all worldly goods.