Release of Sounds Part III

******** Bird
cherry

There is bird cherry in bloom,
Intoxicates us with a delicate aroma,
Enjoying it, I will pass
And get drunk, as once.

And my heart will start again,
Memories will flood again -
And my first love,
Moon at night, in love of recognition, The

touch of your hands
And sweet trembling in my soul,
Everything in memory will wake up suddenly,
But it will not return again.

********

***
Not a Bad Start Part III. :)

*******

Night A

moonlit path runs through the water,
A timid leaf trembles over the water of the aspen,
Someone scattered many stars in the sky,
Silver sparkles on the grass dew.

The pungent smell of the steppe, the scent of violets,
Freshness and coolness, the light of the lightning is bright, The
wind in the crowns is asleep, my land is sleeping,
Only the trills of the nightingale do not stop.

******

***
How to learn the benefits of sculpting
From the plasticine of life, circumstances,
How to learn to love your neighbors
When they are you .... (stop, no curses).

Find out whether you are healthy among the sick
Or sick among the crowd of healthy ones,
To find out what is needed, to descend?
Or look for them upstairs, the way of the road ...

***

********

How can you look for benefits
In those you love? Here's a riddle.
After all, you have to give yourself to them,
All of yourself and without a trace.

To love is not only to take,
My such conviction, To
love is also to give,
Experiencing pleasure.

***

So sweet is the delicate aroma-
In the bloom of acacia stand,
Chestnuts in white candles again
We are humming about love.

***

_Illusion_ of
" neighbors " in the Christian sense, not those who are directly next to it :)
PS About acacias with chestnuts of the young man ...
Will you send cherries and cherries?

***
Childhood

We go by train -
I, mother and sister,
We - to the grandmother in the village,
After all, summer has come to us.

So joyful in my chest,
The meadow is strewn with flowers, Walk
across the bridges.
Mom is coming with us.

Though it is far to go,
But the joy can not be alleviated-
We are on our way to grandmother,
We hasten to hug her.

The hot smell of herbs
And swallows in the morning
scurry here and there,
We sing songs.

We go through the fields, the
whole earth is warmed.
Here is a river on the way, I
so want to enter.

Enter, bathe in it
And gain courage,
Malkov would drive,
Lily pads here to pick.

Everything was so long ago,
As if in another country, It was
not destined to return
All this again to me.

And no one in the world is
destined to return,
After all, we are no longer children,
Let's continue the journey.

The warmth of memories will
flood suddenly in my chest.
Let it be with us-
Warm us along the way.

*****

*****
Nostalgia

Where childhood has flown by,
Everything has long been empty,
Time has already demolished the house
And everything is overgrown with grass.

There are no those to whom they ran,
Hugged, kissed,
Who did not live and pitied
us, Sang Lullabies to us.

My brother decided to resurrect everything,
Buy another house for everyone,
So that we would come in the summer,
Again, so that we could get into it in childhood.

But whatever the house is,
Do not return to childhood in it
And no one will resurrect,
Those who lie in the grave.

Will not come, will not come running,
Who lies in the grave there,
We will not be met at the threshold- The
road is far to him.

Childhood is a wonderful country
And we are given one,
And there is no road to him,
Do not buy a ticket there.

We will remember childhood,
We will warm the soul,
In childhood, so that we can return in dreams, We
don’t need to buy a house.

*******

***

***
So the village of Chernovsky
Remained in my memory,
In those log cabins the wind only walks
Among the unmown fields.
In the desolate no sense
Unfilled ...
There was a day - when I was convinced
and quietly shutting the door
so and left everything - just ...

***

Rain

Good bright days,
It's very warm outside, The
sun is shining high,
It's hot even in the shade.

And finally, in the evening,
When dawns appear,
Clouds come to us from the sea,
Bringing a cool wind.

Flowers withered by the sun
Instantly rose so quickly
And the rain poured them so quickly,
Now they are happy.

Atmarozik burns as always. This topic and he Unfilled, was the day
reminded the case when I had to visit the village of which was forcibly evicted due to construction project HPP
__________________
bushes everywhere and trees
All the contours merged
and numbers of others fences where there will be a long letter
home are orphaned their windows smashed sorrow
The foliage rustles and the wind whispers to me offering its peace
But behind each of this house
That was betrayed by its creator
There is a story of their lives
Hopes and destinies at the end Someone
grew up here and hoping to see old age living here
Happy to be in cares to give birth to children and teach
But was fate is harsh scenario
He walked across the
path to people As on a deserted flat track of railroad tracks

Read in this way :)
There is no point in that desolation Without filling, there
was a day When I was convinced of this,
------------------
However, it has already been corrected, thank you for the idea, softarrr)

Talisman

Where the sea eternally splashes
On deserted rocks,
Where the moon shines warmer
In the sweet hour of the evening darkness,
Where, enjoying in harems,
Muslims spend their days,
There a sorceress, caressing,
I was given a talisman.


And, caressing, she said:
“Save my talisman:
There is a mysterious power in it!
He is given to you by love.
From an illness, from a grave,
In a storm, in a terrible hurricane,
Your head, my dear,
Will not save my talisman.


And
He will not give you the riches of the East ,
And He will not subdue the worshipers of the Prophet
;
And you into the bosom of a friend,
From sad foreign countries,
To the native land to the north from the south
My talisman will not sweep away ...


But when
cunning eyes will suddenly enchant you,
Or lips in the darkness of the night
They will kiss without loving -
Dear friend! from crime,
From new wounds of the heart,
From treason, from oblivion Will
keep my talisman! "

And again Summer

Once again, the greenery has bloomed violently,
Summer has fallen on the ground , Both the
body and the soul sings,
Oh, how it's time, you're good!

Gardens, fields all turn green, Choice
fruits ripen there.
And the lark hovers in the sky,
And the swallow rushes like an arrow.

Everything is flooded with the sun, warmed.
Oh, if the summer did not end!
But sadness will suddenly
flash like a bird, As I remember, summer will pass again.

****

***
What a greenpeachimpumpis -
Stopped - and hung in the silence of the trees ...
Inhaling the pine scent, you are enchanted and enveloped in
Resinous captivity.
------------------------------------------

***

I brought plywood into the forest deer
That would exercise from idleness,
Why guys zvirushk bend
"Hunting resource" minus.

Zvirushki fellow -
There are squirrels merciful
And hedgehogs rustle -
Why arrange, shooting Stalingrad.

Ecologically silent arrow
Pierces the side and tears apart with a crunch,
Not living flesh - with a jigsaw in sweat A
stencil born of plywood.

And the birds from the bushes
Their chirp-chick-chick chirp thanks,
Today there will be no victims, and no one
will be a dead carcass for lunch.
Do you understand the woodpecker? Not on my fucking shift.

***

Autumn

Among virgin maples and weeping birches
I cannot see these arrogant pines;
They confuse a swarm of living and sweet dreams,
And their sober appearance is unbearable to me.


In the circle of resurrected neighbors, only
one does not know awe, do not whisper, do not sigh
And, unchanging, jubilant spring The time of
winter reminds.


When the forest drops the last dry leaf
And, having fallen silent, will wait for spring and rebirth,
They will remain
cold beauty Scare other generations

****

Oh, if there were no green fir trees in the forest,
What else would we look at in winter?
Green in black and white colors of these
Reminds me, for some reason, of summer.
In winter, there is no more beautiful tree in the forest,
On New Year's around it, the children are happier.

***

people cannot write poetry
if they could
have created a million freaks
and avenged themselves

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Who would be the first to get revenge
Suddenly, oops ... - suggested ^
Why urodoff a million
When there is a prototype won)

***
People do not write, they give birth,
Even children know about this.
But if you can write them,
why give birth to them in maternity hospitals?
Why should we fool our heads?
He scribbled a couple of lines casually.

***