Author of quotes: Alexander Vertinsky

This is all You have left.
No offense, no ridiculous threats.
Only the heart is slightly sank,
Only in the heart a few tears.
All ended just fine
So cynically cruel end
You said that now in the bedroom
Do not bring with them hearts.
Here on Saturday buy dogs
I will sing at night Psalm
Will order his shoes and coat on,
Nothing is ever live!

Just don't play in the mystery
And to make the life of "Le vin triste".
It's all nonsense, and Your honesty
It is also Flirty Fig leaf.

Is it possible from women to demand much?
Where stupidity is divine, the mind is nothing!

With great tenderness, for it will soon be gone from all
I often wonder who gets Your laughter?
And delicate range of subtle feelings, and the young heart heat,
And Your body rose Bush - which I loved so much.
Wild and naughty fantasies take off,
And cute bugs swarm
Your ironic and bitter mouth,
Laughing over him.
And all Your passion, all the sins
The abyss with the feelings of gliding,
And my letters and my poetry,
Which are impossible to forget!
<...>
Because it is not necessary to pluck flowers
And in the cages to torment the birds
Because it is impossible to keep love
Falling prostrate before her.

Blue and distant ocean,
Somewhere near Tierra del Fuego,
Float in the lilac mist
Dead gray ships.
They are blind captains
Somewhere sunken long ago.
In the morning they silent caravans
Quietly sink to the bottom.
Waiting for them the ocean in my arms
Wave their welcome, ringing.
Terrible their impotent curses
The sun of the coming day...

Your fingers smell of incense,
And eyelashes sleeping sorrow.
Nothing now, don't you
No one now is not bad.
And when the spring messenger
You go in the blue region,
The Lord himself, in white stairs
Will lead You to a brighter heaven.

"Madam, already the leaves are falling,
And the fall in deadly delirium!
Already a bunch of grapes
Yellow in the forgotten garden!
I'm waiting for You, as sleep blue!
I die in the autumn on fire!
When You say the word?
When You come to me?!"
And, the view omitting tired,
She whispered, as in delirium:
"I have too long wished for.
I to You... will never come."

Come. Don't be afraid.
We'll be friends
It's time both of us love to rest,
Because, alas, no words,
No tears can't bring her back.
We will swim, laugh, catch tangerine,
White narrow boat will leave for the lighthouse.
At sunset, when the evening crimson,
We will be reading books about far-away lands.
We at hot stones turtle catch,
I little crabs will bring.
And love will bury love bury
In last year's leaves in green woods.
And when slim month will begin to serebritsja
And purple sea goes for scythe
You seem white silver bird
Admiral's yacht on the yellow Cape.
Hear cry bassoon and trumpet
In a dance orchestra in the great casino
And Your sad baby lips
We drink at night, Golden wine.

I'm the doctor, quietly and attentively watching "rabbit of my soul", to whom, or rather which produces their experiments.

Man at sunset is destined to fall out of love to his soul, released from all earthly attachments, appeared clean, naked and free before the throne of God.

As soon as we achieve, finally, clarity of thought, strength of mind and something begin to know, to know and understand - we are invited to the cemetery. We removed as dangerous witnesses as counterintelligence agents who know too much.

The more a person lives, the clearer it becomes to him the trap into which he fell, having the temerity to be born.

I have the dubious pleasure of enjoyment of viewers or listeners who casually listened to some nonsense about "beautiful feelings" and dispersed, under the guise of shaking his head and smiling good-naturedly - there is supposedly still such cranks! - to begin again to their Primus, the string bags and talking, jealous, spiteful and petty.

Good the city of Leningrad! Surprisingly he calms down somehow. Live in Moscow, as at the station. And here as though already arrived at home.