Unquenchable thirst of love…. Михаил Годов

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      I crave to know all people as the dearest ones

      To realize the events inner wheels

      To see effect and reason, evident and clear:

      I want to be, more sapient and wise.

      Absurd's the monster, scariest of all!

      …And due to it men draw their swords —

      Because of it all funeral and grief,

      And people are more fierce the beasts!

      And cry of woe is now in vain,

      No word can ever reach their ears:

      Cause now's deafness for our souls to tear!

      Misunderstanding is the endless chain…

      And I grew week before the locked front door…

      But love had found the key so long ago!

      There's time for everything and turn:

      And summer follows the spring's route,

      As night's successor, comes the dawn

      And the ovary becomes the fruit.

      The clocks tick on, and thus each moment,

      Dictates us sequence of the lines.

      And words are linked within the sonnet.

      And generations grow and die.

      Haste is the ghostly, bad mistake

      And lingering is just a guilt.

      And every failure and success:

      As a pirouette on sandy brink

      But breaking all the terms and frames,

      Love definitely will come in May!

      Love is a battle without mercy

      Without tears of compassion.

      Intrigues, snaring, fire of passion… —

      Through all the times, in all the verses.

      During the starry sleepless nights,

      The serenades are sung for Her.

      But under cloak the blade does blur

      Blood flows as scarlet as the wine.

      The Love, the treachery's strong ally

      And such al luring as naiads

      Seduces us to escapades

      And passion's cup becomes so dry

      With no regard to young and senior…

      But happy is the one, who did surrender!

      Seems like the gift I hear your voice:

      The art of note and speech around:

      In Forerunner's mouth how did you sound!

      How did you wake the hearts' rejoice!

      And young and old were rise by feet,

      And they were going under shells:

      Rumor was like a furnace flames,

      How did you kindle ardent heat!

      The Christ, The Circe, Demosthenes,

      Grand Opera, La Scala, Covent Garden…

      The ship was lead right on the rigs so hardened,

      When helmsman heard the Sirens' sing… —

      You really have ambrosian treat!

      But I love most your voice's being sweet…

      My eyes! What's for your roaring crying?!

      Why so much salt humidity in you?!

      You didn't pass Butyrka, Gulags too…

      Who is your punisher, who is defying?!

      Oh, heart! Where do you rush tantivy?

      By strike of sword it's felt such pain!

      What kind of blood turns red… on paper's stain?

      – Where is this dawdler doctor?! Hurry, do actively!

      And why is my brain now so inflamed?

      What woe does bother his poor mind?

      His mind just cannot bear it, it's bind.

      Like Hamlet I'm, by madness, tamed!

      How can I overthrow tyranny power?!

      That's what you've done to me – the fervor…

      End of the battle, the fighting roar faded:

      The last redoubts are yield to enemy —

      Within some minutes everything was destined —

      The scalade was so rampant and so dashing!

      The hero fought with courage of the three

      And being captured tried to break the tether:

      His veins were swollen of such efforts! —

      Such metaphors're tremendous as can be.

      That's the result: defeated and so mean,

      He was much calmer, than a little lamb:

      Inside his nostrils they put rings

      He went so humble behind them.

      That one's insane, who once confronted feelings

      I gave my all to you, no armour concealing…

      The frantic flame was burning down

      And fire tumbled as if in rage.

      And not so less was all its power:

      Each moment made it fade away.

      As if a hungry wolf, it used to tear

      All that it could get into its jaw,

      And all was turning into smoke

      With which the soul was seared…

      Thus, everything burned down to ashes:

      And there was left only some embers —

      A gulp of water in the thimble:

      Though ashes still so slightly glimmered…

      I poked it – and it suddenly appeared:

      The passion's burnt, but love is here

      And poetry, and nature, and truelove… —

      I have divided between you the year.

      Look: all the words are feminine here:

      For still with women I'm in love!

      I'm serving them gratuitously:

      I don't expect awards and otherness

      Though, СКАЧАТЬ