When the icy dew
Y Styx, on the shore
Prodrognesh. One.
Drunk on the boot
In a tavern "Shaggy log",
At the edge of gray forest
And rumochnaia "Bitter God",
In the shadow of the sails.
When the rope is already creaking
And jib sheet
Crushed in the cockpit
Stem scratched the bottom.
A little embarrassed, to explain
He likes in a quiet
Sailing like,
Ring is not on board the soul -
His mind, meanwhile,
Charon and remember about the tribute
And search for "travel"
Obyschet my throat.
When the plates from the mooring
Decamp under volnishku crab
See - worth sogben
Slave chained to the pump
And indifference annoyed
Shakes, shakes stock ...
"And then I christen
Think: "I could have used both ..."
"O Lord, from me!" -
This sound is not accepting the shame
Resounds in heaven.
And listened to Hades.
For sure - if
Will regret anything.
Squishes into the hold of the water
The flow.
And the soul of a cold
Sipit like an old man,
We are preparing for the court.
S Pump creak, creak ...
For sure, who knows?
Lips curled arc
I do not find to say
Words on the road.
Wrist - smart -
From under the breast bone,
In two heart leap
Squeeze - "Sorry"
A ... more dumbness.
Normal, however, here.
Underfoot edge
Beads is - do not count.
Rock chips, crunch
Time on a trail
Gritted his belt Procrustes
Primerivayas to stop,
Lullaby
Boreas in humpback ice -
Is what is suitable here ...
Though I used to work
Listen to the broadcast -
Sound does not pick up.
Only the roar of mortar
Da mortal "your mother"
And dumb - just screw
Suspensory language.
How merciful bandage
Crushing injuries cry,
Cry, because he is weak.
Because he was hungry.
I do not want, like a slave.
I do not want. Tired.
What hidden meaning,
As water breakwater
Bypasses avaricious thoughts,
The more the lips cut.
If you love to lie
Nothing as a "simple",
Is too die,
Listening to the bone.
There is nothing to keep the tablet.
Nothing to give to the canvas.
Yarn piece - "sorry",
Patch for the right.
I do not know sign,
Which would be shows
As heard Pasternak
Past thirty-five.
Or hear the sound -
Rustle of sand in hours
Rustle favorite handheld
In gray hair,
Rustle of satin, linen
In a mad darkness,
Whisper with which the war
Hides the worksheet
Skew between pages
Bead dismiss ...
So a string of birds
Fly into the sky, laughing
, And dissolving
In the bitter-hot haze ...
So, not knowing his father,
I'm scattered in the ground.
And even more so, I
On the shore of the sonnet
Indistinguishable, lame
And not heard. None.
Past the fear and pain,
Passing of the soul - into the darkness,
Feverish entreaty
God knows who.
Only a splash of Acheron,
Yes dimensional rowlocks groan.
Grotesque ... My completed
For neodushevlen
In the mist already bare,
Hear the laughter of the driver.
And while ringing scythe
Making up for all of us.