Rus Articles Journal

Verses of

Ode to the Ukrainian borsch

Oh, borsch! You are my savior and the joy,

to me is pleasant to cook You, to sup, Then You to treat guests with

:

With haricot, greens, sour cream - as it is necessary,

Under vodka, is quite good - under cognac,

Under moonshine, and it is possible also under whisky: They are similar

as odalisques, So experts on drink and women tell

.

I from pork am ready to cook You,

of Veal, small fishes, a rooster,

With beet sugar, with shchavly and with a nettle,

That was more tasty, than “imperial“ fish soup.

I before You, Borshchishche, admire!

to Admit that I am not ashamed at all, You I both admire

, and I am proud,

being sated with You - I enjoy...



the Sonnet about hourglasses

That my life? Falling of grains of sand

From infinity in other infinity,

that transience,

Frightens a sand time But, listening to it, I am restrained as the monk.

And back not to turn sand a movement -

It will fall only down and down,

will not crash down once face downwards Yet,

without having elicited forgiveness for all sins.

I saw Kara - Qom and I know about Gobi,

Through hourglasses

Ya would pour both of them, but time where to take?

Let it would be exhausted, let hands opeklo,

would Wither everything, got exhausted, but again:

- the Patient, get up, time expired

About poets, muses and verses

I.

the Poet to the poet - the friend,

But very not reliable,

creativity is the work

Casual and disturbing,

A the Muse - that, It is

it is So windy - it is timid,

As late spring:

a znoyna, is rainy.

at you sits,

Having got on knees,

On an ear a verse buzzes

In a rush of revelation,

will throw suddenly reproach,

That you are indifferent to it,

K to another will fly away

I your rest is destroyed:

Was gone both a dream, and laughter.

K to what this change?

It - one on all,

Who thinks himself the poet.

II. to

From the muses giving gift to mint lines,

to Write verses with “a fallichesky column“,

Ya I know two: Erato, Kalliop, to

About a family others a little I am familiar.

Erato kissed on Katull`s forehead,

handed to Ovidy a mascot, Sapfo`s

slightly did not fail to touch,

And then went both Dante, and Khayyam.

Regarding the goddess Kalliopy,

a Row become rough, even grow dark:

Homer, Lucretius, Lukian, Aesop and,

Of course, Horace and Corneille.

Them is only two, not a jot it is more, Not to everyone they will give to

the sign:

Only who ukhvatisty, soul is thinner,

Will prove that the poet - not just like that.

III. Who drinks

from a whirlpool to whom the spring is lovelier, Who scoops

from the small river multiple-jet, Techenye`s

of time upward takes out a verse:

Is quiet - equal, is angular - violent.

And the author - either the poet, or the poet,

Having swaddled the groaning baby,

strives to call it the Masterpiece, without feeling sorry for

of Forces, time and heart.

And, taking out on torzhishche, on court,

Approximately, eyes also zyrkat an osmotrenye,

to It then the name is given:

Sonnet, poem or poem.

The innocent child,

Who - to a celebrity and glory,

who goes to the world - in obscurity,

Who becoming the anthem who -

it is simple song,

Who departing in darkness of a non-existence …

Poetry - the same craft,

That music and other arts,

its product - the thought alloyed by

with feeling,

A the tool - a rhythm, a rhyme and number.

An epilog to “Word“

1.

of Lira and a pipe,

Are gentle and rough.

Banners, banners,

of the Song and abuse. Burst

, Bojana! Medami`s

are drunk,

In prophetic strings, you vnemlit

A,

of Lira and a pipe,

the Song pick up -

Is heard that everywhere.

2.

Easy planes

Down Slavuta

To the Russian sea -

Directly to Tsargrad.

To fight of a pole-axe,

Well-aimed onions!

to Foes - the mountain,

Rusam - an award.

3.

Foes, the friend, Armour, chain armors,

of Sechi are merciless

,

Yaroslavna`s Shout.

the Battlefield,

to Crows - will,

Blood on barrows,

Crying in enemy camps.

4. Are brave

,

are skillful Prince teams,

But are not uniform,

Eh, are not uniform...

of Darkness were rolled by

the Lava from the East,

were Long cut with

Fiercely, cruelly.

I pulled

In captivity on lassos,

I zabelet

of the Bone in a tall weeds...

20. 01. 1987



People and swans

Shouted swans, freezing in a smooth surface of the gulf,

Slid an echo in styly silence

I children clung to mothers timidly,

A who less - cried in a dream.

Voices weakened - more and more deafly,

Crashed ice more and more deeply and more painfully,

But as if closed up with wax ears

of Pink-checked, cheerful people.

Well and when shouts bird`s stopped,

On more thickly ice the people began to mince:

Who with the axe who with scrap - as is more habitual -

of Obrubyvat around frozen ice.

How with pleasure to roll then in a feather-bed,

Having taken cover with the head a down-padded coat,

the Filled soft down swan,

the Easiest, with skin the torn-off heat.

Swans shouted, freezing in a smooth surface of the gulf,

Slid an echo in styly silence

I frozen quietly hit into glasses with

of Houses, darkening windows in a dream.