Author of quotes: Boris Red. Page 2

I want to call
someone is somewhere
someone, maybe
who will not condemn this
"just to talk".
Want to chat
with someone, but seriously,
something
confused, quietly, tearfully.

You danced, no, you danced, you danced,
I do remember vodka was scarce, and the sky a lot. Well,
honest to God, it was summer. Before the dawn, the light of a lantern was
blue. You've forgotten everything. But it was. And yet you were singing.
The foliage rustled. The number of what? Is this the case...
Not in this case!
But here's the thing: I lie shamelessly, and cheekbones that
in lies, and only love can.
But life goes.

There's snow everywhere, and mortal anguish,
deathly and apparently Board.
To kill yourself? Maybe not a nightmare, but
though the reason would be, there are none.
Suicide - eighteen years
still fine at twenty - two
vulgar...

... What sort of destiny, age, rock,
I'm just a man and alone
as it is possible.

Somewhere far away, where the smells of the forest roam,
somewhere far away, where the air, as the faint, mottled...
Where the evening where the fall, where crying forgotten childhood,
having broken lokotochki for red head stars
there is moon, forest, mine, in the autumn glades
torn, melting in a semi-
night silver...
Where I is the reflection of the moon in lavender-si...
in pale blue mist,
where I am the life, not doita life of the city lights.

That sunset in the sky uknowable God, mad rose
wither. The winds will subside. The tears will subside.
We will live here. We will watch together...
And the stars
here colored as in the photograph of the pupils of the fireworks.

Was just a lot, music was great,
and kinkasan tickets were almost always.
The red tram is a bully with a tight ass
went nowhere.
Music was not enough
and passengers for the tram depot.
So we went in the fall of cinema
and walked down
a long Avenue of life. It is about the summer
the movie was about happiness, not about trouble.
In the last row of beer and a cigarette.
I will never sit in the front row.

Nothing is really necessary,
you name it:
or someone else's Apple orchard,
no stranger to love
what supports you gently,
to drop fear.
Better bad, better hopelessly,
better snout in the dirt.

Thank you for everything. For the quiet.
In the light of the stars, arguing with the darkness.
Thank you for your son, for his wife.
For the music thieves behind the wall.
For thank that's a bad guest,
I'm still pretty well received.
And cloak in the hallway drove in a nail.
And the whole world put on my shoulders.
Thank you for poetry for children.
Not for attention at all, for patience.
Over the autumn. For bad weather. For the sins.
For this unearthly compassion.
For God and his angels.
For what the heart believes, the mind knows.
Thank you for nothing
such do not happen.
For everything, for everything. For what can't
grief remembering to live beautifully.
I before life in painful debt.
And only the death of the generous and silent.
For everything, for everything. In the murky dawn.
Bread, salt. The warmth of their homes.
For that I thank you all
because you can't hear a word.

I loved everyone. No kidding.

Of a lifetime any of the roads.

In Russia over forever.
In Russia, apart of the city
so far,
that startled me, whispering "goodbye."

Above the houses, houses, houses
blue hanging clouds
so they will stay with us
for centuries, for centuries, for centuries.
Only couples, only white in blue
on the communities of stone slabs...
Never, we never sgin,
we are stronger and softer than granite.
Let destroyed our shell,
the geometry of life on earth, -
look, kiss my lips,
give me your hand, stay with me.
And when we make each other leave,
you on the wings of your take
only couples, only white in blue
blue and white in si...

... my soul, with fire and smoke
by sky blue,
a favorite fly to your favorite
his.