Did not stay at home.
Annensky, Tyutchev, Fet.
longing for people led,
to cinematography, to taverns, in the cafe.
At the table.
Hope shines for a foolish heart.
And if in a week
so the Russian has changed,
that I will burn my cheeks with the lights of his lips.
Cautiously raise my eyes,
I dig in a pile of jackets.
Fear yells from the heart.
Rushes in the face, hopeless and boring.
to the right a little,
unknown on land, not in the depths of water,
working diligently on calf leg
You look and don't know: eats or not he eats.
You look and don't know: breathing or not breathing.
Two yards of faceless pink dough:
even if the label was embroidered in a corner.
Just swaying down on your shoulders
soft folds of shiny cheeks.
vomits and tosses.
I look to the left.
Turned to the first, and cared otherwise:
for the one who saw the second image
the first -
resurrected Leonardo da Vinci.
Do you understand
cry the thousand pangs?
The soul does not want to go dumb,
and say to?
Throwing myself to the ground,
isotra face in blood, tear washing asphalt.
A thousand kisses covering my lips
smart tram face.
I'll leave the house.
Stick to the wallpaper.
Where the rose is more tender and tea?
Do you want -
I will read “As low as mooing”?
For the story
When everyone settles in heaven and hell,
the land will be summed up -
at 1916 year
beautiful people disappeared from Petrograd.