Author of quotes: Vladislav Khodasevich. Page 1

Love the brilliant arrow of the bow.
Cruel pranks, poet, do not contradict!
We all have the first separation,
As the first Laurel, like a first love.

Step, preskoci,
Fly, re - what I want -
But break: a stone from a sling,
Star out in the night...
He was lost - now look...
God knows himself mumble,
Looking for his glasses or keys.

Let the walls cool, slender towers
And dazzling lights;
Let him pour streams of blood war;
Let our AC days;
Let simmer ring, tremble,
Rattle loudly of the city;
Let time splashing incessantly, -
You should all burn star!
Forgive me, light of a Foundation,
Immutable started -
What I'm in the severe struggle
So foolishly forgotten.

The worries of each day
Live, and the soul under a bushel
Some flaming miracle
Lives apart from me.
And often, rushing to the tram
Il on the book face sklone,
Suddenly I hear the rumble of fire -
And close my eyes.

My father was six-fingered. Sometimes, in "forty-crow"
Will be playing in the evening, sitting on your favorite sofa.
Here on his father's hand carefully I folded
Fingers one after the other five. And the sixth is me.

To live or to sing is almost worth it:
In a groggy rude live.
Tailor stitch, a carpenter builds:
The seams will spread, the house collapses.
And sometimes only through it's decay
Suddenly, tenderly, I hear
It concluded the beating
Quite a different being.
So, provoda life boredom,
Lovingly, the female lays
His agitated hand
Puhnuschih heavily on the stomach.

Look for me through the spring light.
I whole - as a wave of invisible wings,
I sound, I sigh, I'm a Bunny on the floor,
I easier Bunny: he is here, he is, I was.
But, the eternal friend, between us there is no separation!
Listen, I'm here. Touch me
Your lively, reverent hands,
Prostrate in the fluid flame of the day.
Pomedli so. Shut, as if by accident,
Eyes. Another stress for me
And on the tips of trembling fingers, secretly,
Maybe I'll break out a brush fire.

My unclear dreams,
I just quietly new...
Sunset scattered roses
The shroud of snows.

Happy is he who falls headfirst:
The world for him even for a moment - and another.

Do not try to know themselves, and you become disgusted.