I'm greedy of your wheel's flight, o motoroller,
shining with a pinky colour!
I follow it with the tears, which are falling
from eyes without reason, when it's summer!
...
I'm pressing my cheek to the whirl
Of winter, as a snail curled.
...
I wished this to be better, better...
And worked so thoroughly...
But all in vain...
The thought was so bright, but letters
...
1. That's the old motive-song and the old distant land,
A crystal light when sunrise glares over the earth bloom.
I'm aware of your grief of old-old age,
Byelovezhskaya Putscha, Byelovezhskaya Putscha.
...
Good poems torment me much,
Bad ones - are nice without reason:
They can't sting souls, nor they bite,
They have the warmth of home, isn't it?
...
By Veronika Tushnova
I understood, you wanted evil not
To me, you were somehow fair.
...
To warm light, to my paternal threshold
Wistful sigh of your's pulls me as a rein old.
There on porch my grandfather, grandmother
...
Oh my land, forgotten been,
Oh my land, been waste,
Hayfield, all without bevelling,
Thicket and convent.
...
Life had become so sweet and cosy.
All gone to be still, from that morning - right.
I'm glad to lie here on the endless sea-shore.
I'm careless of all, I'm named by symbol 'Ra'.
...
That events were at sea-shore,
Where foam is patterned,
Where hardly you can meet
Any carriage on path...
...