Singer: Alexander Ivanov

Moscow autumn, Moscow autumn,
The last leaves of the maple reluctantly reset.
And my memory is like a wind, carries
In another such exact Moscow autumn.

A gloomy dawn in a cold window
Time - the conveyor belt,
And all that is happening in me -
Is part of the Universe.

The pale bartender with a trembling hand,
Smoke tobacco prisoner,
And that I agree to go with me
Is part of the Universe.
The meter, similar to pulse
Directly into the yard and left.
Stars - traces of tracer bullets,
Are also part of the Universe.

As the rain knocks on the windshield
And time water on glass drip
Washing items with features
Blurring color.
And yet, in spite of torrential rain
Hoping for something, you I'm still waiting
And seems the rain will never end-never.

From year to year - and so it goes,
It is the opposite,
Wings behind our backs
Never grow up.

I'm not rich and not poor,
I'm just a guest in their homeland,
Where for some reason it is not so,
As though I wanted in life.

Not always, not always, the person is able to proudly carry unadulterated his conscience, often he renounces in the name of implementation of conscious ideals. Only stubborn donkeys, but not a person endowed with Reason.

The heart of a poet shot at the night shot raindrops...

And, circled with foliage like poplar,
I looked in the mirror quivering puddles -
And I realized why once Gogol
Burned the second volume of "Dead souls"
With the last cry of a lonely bird
I'm on the highway ran like Mistral -
And the speakers was flowing stream
"Sinful soul sorrow"...

Sad poems
Vermouth and umbrellas...
Cloud tart spirits
Autumn has come to Moscow.

In the reflection of shop Windows all of us
So like mannequins.

The day starts with a small war
Between wanting to sleep and shave.

I didn't know how to understand love,
So half of my life lived in vain,
But this morning an unknown light
Somewhere in me like a lamp glows.
I think I know the answer
Something has to happen...

God, what a trifle to do anything wrong:
Throw the trash out of the house and to call old friends
But something seriously to change, not be afraid in the little things to lose
Free only sky above my head...