The sky is laughing Branches are rampant Stormy; The young man dances Green wind playfully The heart woke up Fluttered away... And from the slums — In the whirlwind... And it was overcast From happiness. A solar string It rings incessantly Daily; In a warm heart Flaming crazy Stop! No need!.. Wrap yourself in the shadow Please!.. In sweet fatigue, In a fiery beam I'm burning...
When the rush of sadness and loneliness It falls on the soul in the late season, I know that even then You are with me, I feel You are with me.
When they sweep around Sweeping away happy years like snow, I feel in my heart that you are here I can even hear your quiet steps.
When I'm helpless like a baby In the soul - as if after the expulsion from Eden, I suddenly hear my name It sounds gently in your voice.
When I rejoice in the sun and the nightingale, And the feeling stirs incomprehensibly, I see your smile openly, That you rejoice so sincerely for me.
I don't know loneliness with you I feel comfortable and beautiful with you. Only when you are with me I, like a child, am truly happy!
When you want to recognize yourself And penetrate the essence of the core, It is not necessary to lay out scrupulously Their insides are as small as atoms.
Put a daughter, a son in front of you, Don't be a biased judge. In the reflection bright, not fake You will recognize your true essence.
A blizzard surrounds the apple trees With every breath of the breeze. Well, why are you sleeping so hard? Will it be swept off her face?
Come to your senses, playful wind, Stop this cruel mockery... Still the snow-white flower is circling, Like a silent solemn sadness.
But the soul does not ache in apple trees, Does not split the cry of the chest, Because a necklace of rosy apples People's sight will be admired.
And the life of the wind is tireless Sweeps my delicate flower, So that on the branch of the soul, on each, A golden fruit ripened.
God, give me strength in bad weather, So that the storm does not wash me away. For my fruit is Your reward, He is for You, Lord, he is Yours.
Love and tears, joy and suffering, Triumph and crying, recognition and shame They walk side by side in a wonderful union, Like old friends, non-bottled water.
Already in the morning the thought: "It would be evening soon...", And in the evening: "Why doesn't the morning hurry?..." Children dream of flying through time, And with age, every moment is sweet to the heart...
So from time immemorial, from the very beginning, When Eden bloomed in bliss... however, Look, Adam, here are your descendants Your choice is paid as!..
What is not human is a grandiose drama, It seems that there is a dead end everywhere, a blind corner... And I hear the voice of the new Adam: "Well, there is a way out... today the choice is yours..."
The first day and the second day faded into oblivion... There was morning and there was evening... And it passed... Where did the colors go? Only indistinct streaks... And it's hard to say something about love.
And somewhere beyond the horizon is a colorful variety, Bells of laughter cheer the space, And so the stars-flowers burn everywhere, That the earth becomes the starry sky.
Hoping for time is not always a grateful thing. In motion, the horizon will not come even a step closer. And again, only memories and imagination are reliable, And everything else, of course, as God will provide.
These weary hands, do they know rest? These tired hands that smell of both mint and thyme? A bluish-green periwinkle quietly winds over them And covers their tense faces.
In the fields and meadows tanned by the sunny wind, And the palms are rough - relatives of the gray autumn earth. But through the gray fog they shine with a strange light The golden sun in the transparent dawn.
These tired hands, how sweet and tender they are, This is where the river of unspeakable happiness and love begins... I hug them, kiss them with inspiration and tears, And I sing their praises to the holy mother's hands.
If in tense silence You are looking for him somewhere under the sky, So the question arises: And did you have it?
If there was, he would be heard It has its own name. Bright, valiant past Always in step with the present.
Once at the invitation of a friend, Having found leisure for an hour, I went to listen to him An interesting musical novelty.
Delighted, with proud excitement Comrade turns on the car, And the house was filled with roar, Fortunately, no black smoke.
Diffusers wheeze and crackle, Even the walls tremble from strain, I will never understand: whether grief, Is there joy in this song, or sadness?
Something howls fearfully, It beats, as if in a stupa, Comrade smiles a lot And in time he says: "Super!"
I open the window, and where is it, I can't escape from the trap And here are thunderous decibels The air is cut into particles.
But suddenly a singing bird Through the starry silver shower Even in the glow of the Milky Way A happy soul soared.
And the heart, forgetting fatigue, Flew on the wings of a dream, And from the windows of the neighboring house "Ave Maria" flowed.
I strongly weigh the words And I check each one or not. What a hard work it is, The forehead is covered with sweat.
Palms, like old, rusted tin. But I am not ashamed of this. I no longer wield a pen, but a crowbar, Biting into the age-old firmament.
The gray shirt is already stained with salt, A crowbar rings against the stone, as if on an alarm... I will not stop, because I hear a commanding voice In the sounds of those persistent efforts.
O you, holy blessed moment! — Find the cornerstone for the building, That eternal life-giving Word, What does not die, but gives life to everything!
Autumn prompts a confession, Adjusts to a new way. I love the symphony of silence Under the solemn lush November.
Through the soft, charming gamut of coffee Lure to the exhaustion of feelings And enjoy the autumn in the gardens In a frenzy of colors.
Всупереч вагомим аргументам Under the chorus of rain melodies Осінь тихо так, інтелігентно Penetrates into the depths of the soul.
In the crowns that burn like a fire, In the glow of golden luxurious robes, In the quiet rhythms of rainy poetry — The celebration of life heralds everywhere.
Autumn is incomprehensible in its power... I am a prisoner of your beautiful days... And in melodious serenades I hear the gentle singing of the heart.
Trembling wavy amazing circles and splashes cut open the night around.
Stretch the flesh, pull it like a string, Diving deep into the heart.
Be able to find sunken treasures And don't choke in sticky water,
Reach for the reflected blue, Without breaking the life-giving thread.
From the wind of feelings born from tears, It only sways, but the mist does not disappear.
No matter who it is, there is never a shadow anywhere It will not dive into the mysterious depths.
Bound by a ray of fire, Having filled the lungs with forest air
And combing the sunny ball, Look for a wonderful piggy bank at the bottom.
In it is the secret of the universe and movement, The hidden power of the human spirit.
Rather into the depths, without fear and hesitation, Into the epicenter of the heartbeat!
The sky is crying again, sometimes with snow, then with rain... But my soul is neither in despair nor in longing, When you know: they haven't forgotten you yet, When it is engraved in the memory of friends.
In life, a lot passes us by. There are laws that do not know any deadlines. But memory powerfully stops time, Even for a week, even for a month, even for years...
Oh, how mysterious these miracles are! My wonders have no limits and no cure... This is one of the essences of the Lord's being, Because didn't He say these words: "I am with you always, even to the end of the age."
Let the sky tear with snow and rain, And a gray shadow of a cloud lay on the ground, The terrible heart does not squeeze my heart, - Bright memory paints sunny pictures.
Reaching for the sky in thought, Overcoming the gravity of the earth. You don't need a lot to be happy You only need the basics.
I merge with the song of summer, When everything is raging around. I really want to be happy Forgetting about fatigue and pain.
One desire is not enough, To melt in the blue light. It is important that the heart sings, When everything around is silent.
Although the silence over the world is ominous, But it doesn't bother me. The Lord is my strength and song, This is the main thing for happiness.
What we cannot do to know all the wisdom of the Lord And not to penetrate into the creative Its depth-mystery, It will not serve as a basis for excuses, now so fashionable, About his inactivity, ending the war with evil.
there are many things which we are able to influence, So with fervent zeal Let's use our right. But where in the barn We experience loss in thoughtlessness, Let's give away the victory Into the hands of the Lord's saints.
The Creator does not wait, that we will understand all His actions Comprehend in dozens spent some years there. He is waiting for cooperation and joint interaction, So that from the slavery of sin save the impoverished world.
Worrying in a troubled time Disappointments and losses, Let me recognize, God Where is the enemy, and where is the brother.
In linguistic diversity, Where in the word - farce and minced meat, God, let me understand Where is the truth, and where is the lie.
I will not cherish dreams To become a sage i just want to know Where is the mask, where is the face.
When it's foggy and dark Looking at the entourage, God, let me be certain Where is the essence, and where is the mirage.
To dream and fly With my soul again and again, Let your heart feel Where is play, and where is LOVE.
I avoid the word "age". (But isn't there a reason?), When the wings of the eyelids get heavier And bags under the eyes.
What of the fact that the time is stormy Walked over me without realizing it My youth was erased by that age, Although he did not touch the soul!?
And why are everyone so blind? And why are they all so similar in one - What souls do not often see, But they can climb into her?!
Our fate, difficult or funny, - A valuable treasure in a simple shell!.. Is candy always tasty? In a beautiful wrapper?
Is there a reasonable balance? Where is the last dot? What do they love about us? — Questions…
I bring my sorrows to the Lord, And He receives them with compassion, Gives comfort and leads on The pious path of life.
When I find myself under siege And the heart is harder and harder every day, He gently wipes my tears, Comforting me with love:
"I know the path of suffering is the path to Heaven, I pounded it for you. I took your sadness and your pain upon myself, When he died in the agony of the cross."
And again I direct my gaze to Him. I don't stay alone with grief. And the heart again gratefully praises God, And the song of happiness pours into the sky.
I bring my sorrows to the Lord, And joy, and sorrow, and remorse. I will go through storms and rubble with Him, Because He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.
Today I go to the temple early in the morning, at dawn, Like Mary Magdalene or Peter and John. Where it will melt imperceptibly in a purple haze In a restless night, a gracefully drowsy state.
I will see a strange action on a transparent hill, As the crimson-pink sky tries on a raincoat, And I will hear how welcoming in solemn and peaceful silence, My name is called and a soothing, "Don't cry."
I will see and hear how excited and happy Rivers splash in the palm and the spring song of the trees, And my confused soul will also join in the singing, Because it is a hymn to Life and Love that will never die.
In light contemplation through the drowsiness of indifference I, moved, will feel the wind, the quiet rustling of wings, And a reverent triumph will fill my soul, And it will be filled with light, like the morning sky.
The young horizon blazes in golden oars, Dressed in white robes, my heart also shines. I am going to the temple today to meet the Risen One, Because He is not in the grave. He is truly risen!
I often don't recognize myself My soul is so divided: Today I am blissful in paradise And I can't find a place for myself tomorrow.
Why my trembling heartstrings Do different hands touch so often? How to recognize this game of life: Where are the true and where are the false sounds?
I look at heavenly signs, I listen to the melody of the dream, And rebellious thoughts with lightning Estvo is brutally cut in half.
That in my soul, as if in autumn, The nightingales of spring are raging again... If only my earthly Adam would be faster Adam was defeated by the Heavenly!