Rus Articles Journal

Which - what about a doomsday of

the Summer was or nevertheless not?

Images sometimes dictates nonsense.

Broad-browed

the Gas-bag and the pedant -

On department doctor`s the exchanged talent climbs on department,

Climbs with a vile grimace.

I shouts - I calculated everything!

In gardens of calculations grows truth! I approve

Ya - light will be eclipsed by a mourning strip soon!

I shines a bald head.

Others - doctors and professors -

Rustled - As? We do not trust! Be such cannot! the speaker from department began to yell

A - Hurrah! the End of the world I feel

skin.

Mass media, to sensations greedy

Raised a howl, zaprichitat. Also days hot came.

And the poet lay on a sofa under concrete of a depression

of the House.

Accurately knew - the world neighboring does not need poetry,

Remembered that not to gather verses for the following volume.

On streets walked a close formation

of the Bottom in vestments meanwhile, millionaires with baskets of money,

Intellectuals - their fate always and everything to be dissatisfied,

of the Housewife - these from could not be done.

the Engineers who long ago forgot what is a salary of

Party leaders are gorlopanisty children,

Editors, opera singers, showmen,

drove cars businessmen,

Oykumena`s treasures which were going to buy up.

All protested against opening

of the Broad-browed wise man.

did not want that light disappeared, shouted.

Sounded different voices.

Composers composed music,

Bravura of which disproved a possibility of a mourning strip.

On towers, on Lutheran churches, on many wrists sparkled

Somehow in a new way, very ominously hours.

But on vessels of a grass acted in the mornings as

of the Droplet of mature dew.

And in the afternoon people bore banners, posters and flags.

did not work churches, restaurants, shops, offices, banks. to

Trade on a side, you will not buy elementary: soaps, ink, paper.

Neither to pray, nor to change currency, nor to eat a fat navaga soup.

of the Square and avenues patrolled important tanks.

A the poet all lay on a sofa,

Saw lines - they flickered in fog

Metaphysical,

So far the city could not stop ecstasy mystical,

To what was not affairs to the poet,

Convinced that the sunlight will never disappear,

I not to the person interested to be reconciled with the fact that there is no summer any more.