The road - how many veins it stretched! Not so physically - in the heat and bad weather - Like those thoughts... They can't be quenched! Thoughts are like the sting of a hundred bees... Thoughts flowed like a muddy Nile... Oh, how much has changed since then... ... Although good people came in handy — They provided overnight accommodation for their patient bodies.
He was wiping road dust from his feet... She made a bed out of straw... The donkey was already asleep, collapsed from fatigue... The fog was rolling in the hollows of the fields... ...And suddenly a scream cut the night in half! The cry of pain, labor cramps! And the cry of life is innocent, unconscious. And a flash that lit up the sky!
The cold glow of distant lights Could not overcome the darkness of the night... But there was a manger, and in the manger there were two, How strong it was to stay together. Above the peaceful sleep of Jewish cities and villages The leading star rose, Above the manger, where the two hid, Where Emmanuel became the third for them.
And the same thing happened that there were no more wings, That he was already thinking of letting her go: Is this how children are born? He knew that not, although he was not an old man... A golden ox chewed straw, The shepherds ran in... Oh, my God! Their words made me want to be happy And go forward through the flames of the crucible!
He remembered his doubt like a caterpillar, And the angel spoke strange words in a dream... She is fears that pricked with pins, And the words that Gabriel spoke... Oh, blessed salt of mother's tears, How do you heal all sorrows and pains! The child is in a manger, as if on a throne, What does it mean: God is with us, Emmanuel.
I hug the tree and the grass. I hug the earth - soft and alive.
I hug the clay - brittle and red. I embrace the silver mountain ore.
I embrace stones and sand. I hug a pebble at the bottom of the river.
I embrace the dry ridge of the riverbed. I can't hug only you!
Your footprints have grown cold. I am lost in the desert without water...
I embrace the lake and the stream. I embrace the cold of mountain rivers.
I embrace the flood like a paradise garden. I embrace the shining waterfall.
I embrace the freshness of stormy showers. I embrace the strong sea tide.
I hug the pleso of the pond, my friend. I can't hug only you!
After Your steps, the circles dispersed. Abandoned shores roam...
I embrace the wind, fog and smoke. I hug the clouds along the ridge.
I embrace the bright morning glow. I embrace the shadows of silk gloss.
I hug the bunnies on the dew. I embrace the rainbow in the storm.
I hug the delusional pigeon. I can't hug only you!
Only a smell or a flash, a tremor of the jaw. Only silence hangs over the universe...
I hug the old man and the orphan. I embrace the longing widow of the saint.
I hug my mother's arms. I hug my father's strong shoulder.
I hug my friend's blond forelock. I embrace the thirst of girlish lips.
I hug a weak child in a cradle. I feel You in each of them!
You are in every heartbeat. I embrace you in the wonder of life!
My Dinner is bread in a bomb shelter, A sip of water shared by all. The border is being erased - neighbors, relatives... There are only people, that's all.
My soul is in the Butch of Gethsemane, Where the will was stripped naked. I sob in the morning fog, And underfoot - bones and ashes.
There was a choice in the court of the high priest: "Who were you with?" - sounded like a refrain. And I was scared... It hurts more than anything else, yes Roosters sang in the voice of sirens.
My Calvary is explosions and gunshots. Black fear is gaping in the broken windows. Scattered apostles wander Ghosts in burned cities.
My Emmaus is the salty fate of a refugee, The end of hopes, a road without a goal. All who did not die ran away. And, in the end, the destroyed bridges...
My life is a Jerusalem maid: Hide the children behind at least two walls! Someone's forehead will hug your hands, And you extend your heart to him.
What will happen next according to all the laws? Three days? Three years? Where is our truth? Easter is coming over Tericonos! A great day for the free is coming!
Poets are asked not to mention the war, At least not to talk about the killed soldiers, At least not to mention their names…
When war becomes an everyday affair, They start talking about her in the language of numbers: Three thousand killed and nine thousand half-alive...
When war can kill at any moment, Every time a new euphemism is invented for her: The two hundredth cargo, the demarcation line, the ATO zone...
For this, soldiers come up with callsigns — So that death would not learn their true names And she missed them in her execution notebook.
That is why civilians are afraid to talk about death, So that she did not hear and did not come to their houses, That she would not come and take their children.
And the TV presenters continue to smile at the audience, Congratulate them on holidays and talk about funny pandas, Talk about anything but war...
Gradually comes fatigue from bad news, Click - and the fuse in the head is triggered. The one that protects the brain from overheating.
Society gets used to grief and war As the foot gets used to new shoes, Although at first it rubs to calluses.
First, your parents put you in shoes, preparing you for the paths. Then the politicians put their shoes on, promising a new life. Death is the last to wear weightless cardboard clogs.
Those who trade with death are rarely on the front lines, They understand that war is an unreliable business partner, That's why they send couriers with the worst corns...
Now the clouds are overhead, then the blue will peek through again: Gostomel, Makariv, Vorzel, Okhtyrka, Raisin, Irpin...
A prayer through the sound of the siren, through the explosions above: Oleshki, Chuguiv, Malyn, Shevchenkove, Brovary...
In basements, subways, apartments — accelerated heart rate: Bakhmach, Volnovakha, Kharkiv, Varvarivka, Krolevets...
The forehead is flooded with sweat, the face is covered with heat: Henichesk, Nova Kakhovka, Chaplinka, Energodar...
Where children scream in terror, where time bleeds: Skadovsk, Mariupol, Shchastya, Mykhailivka, Lysychansk...
The shooting of peaceful people is like a terrible dream: Dnipro, Mykolaiv, Kyiv, Zhytomyr, Tokmak, Kherson...
The fire goes beyond the horizon, a tarry pillar to the sky: Poltava, Chernihiv, Sumy, Kalynivka, Konotop...
After biting his lips to the point of blood from the painfully familiar words: Berdyansk, Melitopol, Bucha, Semenivka, Vasylkiv...
Watch over every soul, God, with the hope of autumn: Velikiy Burluk, Ivankiv, Rubizhne, Novi Mlyny...
there is no fear We are on our land. From the dead end Ships are pulling.
He washes his hands Myrshavy man. there is no time - Now or forever!
The tank burns out Tlie blackened flesh. no fury Their judge is the Lord.
There is no mistake In the optics of the air defense system: Above the sky - Scraps of the plane.
the light goes out Flashes in the dark. no friends - Only them and us.
Hits in the chest Sharpened sting. no pain Only gentle warmth...
I shake my hand: "Brother, I'm covered in blood!" - There is no death, All are alive in God!
I don't want to stop halfway Having prematurely become offended and old, Having blossomed into self-confidence and pride, And forgetting how to feel alive!
Everyday prose is the same - the pedantic order of letters. I choose several rhymes for each word — I choose the best one, its perfect sound Makes me feel alive.
And why still breathe, drink the dew of days, And to bathe in herbs, enthusiastically, like a child? So that for some minutes there are ants in the gray hair Remember, recognize, catch life in yourself!
Against the current - waves, convulsions and predators, Because human behavior has never been simple. But all my wounds, all my bruises They help me feel alive.
And a man runs over the chasm in the rye, And he does not know whether it will be possible to take the next step. But this danger, for sure, is - life, And there is no more glorious finish than a jump.
And then, when it shakes and throws it into a black vortex, The opium of oblivion will spread through consciousness, God grant, not to forget in the fog of earthly disappointments, That death is not the end, but aimless boring life.
May the Lord grant to all the indomitable a high cheerful spirit, And to those who love freedom, give the horizons of the heights! And everyone should understand: life is a continuous movement, Only in motion is it possible to feel alive.
I don't want to stop half-tears Although Crimea and Rome will be on the line of resistance... In the salute of the rainbow, in the deep bass of the thunderstorm — I read the Lord's message to all the living.
And once again falling, suffering acute pain, Passing through the ears of mockery or sympathy, I laugh, quench the trembling of my hot veins - And on this contrast I will make sense of my life!
"Jesus was silent" (Mt. 26:63)
"Who struck You, Jesus? If you are a prophet, say!" Cunning words are temptations Twisted like snakes.
"Annu, show us a miracle!" "Well, where is your power, where?" Judas' burning kiss... Peter, who is leaving the yard...
The gate creaks treacherously, The maid sweeps the garbage... A rooster crows About belated repentance.
"Who hit you?" — through the bars Shameless laughter rang out. He had to be silent now, Although he knew everyone's names.
This is already a prophetic law - Immutable for all ages — You don't say what you want And what God says.
And it's scary when in the annals Other people's illegal deeds Historians have recorded Like the sentence: "The Lord was silent!"
Pilate's wife can't sleep... Peter does not hold back his tears... Judas has a shaggy soul, And silver burns inside...
The wind was walking in the yard, There is smoke from the fire... Scorned and beaten, The Prophet was mighty silent!
Learn to love the cold - eternal transparent silence, Where the thorny ice binds the blue waters, Where in the ruins of the temple, you hear, in forgotten niches - The venerable wind rules the cold mass.
Maybe it's a memorial service? Maybe she is about you? Maybe death is already covering the bed with snow? You lie in the middle of the steppe, gen, under the open sky, The wind will cover the bones with a white veil...
Who are you - a merchant or a thief, a knight, a usurer, a wanderer? The cold equalizes everyone - money, swords, charms... In this icy desert, we are all ordinary people. Only one thing is important - who has what breed!
The first ones who seem to be dead tomorrow Others - who become beasts, become predators, Others, having lost their dignity, are good for a bowl of soup Even if the devil himself draws pentagrams...
There is another breed, rare, pure-blooded — Those who pay with their blood for victory. Their courage is sincere, their youth is irrepressible. Their ways are known only to God Himself...
Cold is a cruel teacher. They will survive - perfect! If you stop, you will get cold, the blood will petrify in your veins... Will and danger are two sides of the coin, Loyalty and hatred are two insurmountable forces.
Learn to love the cold, live with the fire of the womb. Maybe they will play "A Song of Fire and Ice" for you... Know that mourning and mourning will meet you, Just don't trade freedom for a warm place!
Glory flew far, Like, God is with Balaam. The messengers of Moab came Start a dialogue.
The prophet came out of the tent, Stretched on the go... I understood the sign a long time ago: Camels bring wages!
"What an urgent matter, Did she lead you on your way so early?" "Greetings to you from Moab, Prophet, be healthy!"
The dawn was dripping with rays, He turned sand into gold. Bedouin servant nekvapom He was removing a bag from a camel...
What were you thinking Balaam When they came And suddenly, for small talk They said: "Curse!"
Did you have a moral code Did the fear of the Lord show Or just a reward Sparkled in your eyes?
Are you serious, for a fee, Borrowing in conscience, I dared to promise: "I ask what God will say"?
Did anxiety burn the soul, Did you gnaw your guts when? You were going to see God With permission for blasphemy?!
The prophet did not know the simple: The Lord stops evil! You, see, translated, heaven, Service in craft...
The nobles returned with nothing... Balak remained silent out of powerlessness: "In the eyes of the soothsayer, I seem to Not a king, but some simpleton!"
Collect the prophet soon The new golden "corvan". And reaches for Petor Trained caravan.
"Oracle, Balaam, Balak greets you! Honors you with gifts And asks to say like this:
"I will give you everything - whatever You didn't make up the prices. Agree to go with me! Only one thing: "Curse!"
The prophet looked sideways A bribe for a sweet soul: "If everything was so simple, As the king of Moab says...
But even if it was a zloty My house fell asleep - Without Savaot's permission I can't follow him!"
And God is not a despot, come on! He always gives the right Do in your freedom: "Well, if you want to go, then go!"
As the prophet's heart is a cry, And the ear is a deaf wall, God will teach a donkey more easily To prophesy she!