Wreath of Sonnets in the dialogue , the highway which served as a sonnet by Michelangelo in the translation of Andrei Voznesensky :
                  
M and r and t r a n But I do not know an hour .

body seeks relief in a carouse . spirit, tired .
The World is lost in the increasingly impenetrable

, like worms crawling out of his ears gossip I believe I get tired .
When Oh God , what you have sown ?

We are filled with shame, death will find an hour .
We do not comprehend thy truth . and even death will not save .
And the angels turn their backs on us . " Olga Mischenkova But I do not know an hour -
                                                                        
Today is not about want to sing ...
hand fatigue - flung his whip ,
obsolete now ... Brahms Concerto

You told me - have not found a phrase
And bow quickly play arcade ...
It seemed to me - outside landscape
I thought ... But that's the point ,

What will end once the inspiration
Which is not to hide in turn ...
death smell ... Maybe just a horror
Open wants shutters revelations ...
body seeks relief in a carouse ? .. Alexander Archangel


body seeks relief in a carouse
How do we avoid the hateful scourge
We are waiting everywhere angry rock

And you've hmeleesh of excitement Roulette - wound whirligig ,

But the choice is limited to the extreme ...
Suddenly a woman - on the original boundary ,
Fate Is that a pack of cards lay ,
Wine thread ... eh With its white fever
spirit, tired . Olga Mischenkova


I have someone saying that it happens ,
When the snow- swept road
Or - a paradise lost in the shelter ...

And so it is - told me someone
And black keys Harnessing donor , Life of the flesh ... The life of the soul ... My friend , believe me -

They will ascend ever - Words
And someone will read our book ...
But now delay - Forest of death ...
Today - circle of pain - head ...
Soul calls a cup of desperation ! Alexander Archangel
                        

Soul calls a cup of desperation
I would spread like the wings , the news
Ruthlessly strength checking

Fate once reveal the limit :
Not able to , hurt, lost his temper and But she burst into tears at last ,

Zatoskovav of past tenses:
She did not seem very black day yesterday ...
In the end , we have an impression of life ,
Zameshenny to holiness , sin ...
The World is lost in the impenetrable frequently . Olga Mischenkova
                                                                        

world often lost in the impenetrable ...

You have not noticed it , my dear , How obscures light invented funk ,
Funk overflowed our patience ,

And life , having lost an arbitrary wing
Now only fresh- brow knits And it is at many times

What else now is not the strength -
upset mnogozvuche - austere . Probably not , so as not to descend into the pit ; Alexander Archangel
Among the poisonous snakes and the snakes


( not the world , as crazy serpentarium ! )
himself , as if the bastard, like a vile creature
In a mixed reality and sticky dream

Death Only one - two hypostases bawd - " I'm tired , he scribbled , not myself " , -

gossiping like a woman , a cunning critic
soulful breaks restlessness , When , weaving a web of threads
, like worms crawling out of his ears ... gossip Olga Mischenkova


, like worms crawling out of his ears gossip -

worms crowded planet Which drywall in the world do not have a star
And no need to sound the clarinet ,

I can not hear the songs of handsome canes ,
When the twisted world among things , understand the soul of heaven can only be ...

You write fiction revelations of blood , Taking the truths of life from scratch -
And the truth is today - a rare guest ... Alexander Archangel


And the truth is today - a rare guest ,

But someone said: " The truth - in the wine ... " Sunrise truth lies in the brew -
That you try and tell -
Two-faced Janus : the truth to destroy it
I'm tired of waiting ... I'm believing, too ... Olga Mischenkova
" I'm tired of waiting ... I'm believing, too ... "


You only weapon , Poet , grumble , elect of heaven ,
You are not the only weapon the land granted to the Messenger ,
You syplesh ashes on her head ,

It would be akin to exile - Do not rush to stop the dawn ...

When the gardens bloom - you yourself know ,
Do not hurry , everyone will have their term ,
which more than someone we measured ...

You are the daisy from the verses of wonder
And best of all you pass days lesson ...
When Oh God , what you have sown ? Alexander Archangel


When will rise , the Lord , that thou hast sown ,

Let me know that this moment is not missed , Up to date , my passion is hot ,
Other subjects will choose if

And make absolutely no Judgement
( In this hell , of course , upekut ! ) I 'll sing love in my sonnets

... In the meantime , staying in the kingdom of darkness ,
I lost my last hope ,
insincerity in prayer if we do ,
In what may be ryadilis clothing
We are filled with shame, death will find an hour ... Olga Mischenkova


We are filled with shame, death will find an hour

When we learn to forgive multiply transgression and vengeance ,
We do not wash the blood-soaked hands ,

Who 's brother raised ...
Not when quenching a sick soul of sadness, We do not understand the tears of our mothers ,

Beret War why they have children -
Alexander Archangel
We do not know the truth Thy
How not to comprehend the mystery of the Eucharist ...
                                 
I opened another creature -
And the wind burst open the door ...

I inspiration, like myself, believe - inspiration comes in decline

Y creativity is your limit
In life I look twilight view : When life was out of work ...
and even death will not save . Olga Mischenkova


and even death will not save

I do not hope to attain peace , When the door shut behind you ,
I do not hope ... our impatience

So often leads us nowhere ,
That even under the heat of the wire Stop can not temptation ...

When cool glow of the sunset
Then maybe someone will remember the sun
And a couple of lines of sparkling phrases ...

While burning azure agate
steep we living spindle ... ; Alexander Archangel
And the angels turn their backs on us ,

And we have them - not a drop of compassion
I Do not complain that my time is short ,

him to become equal to all the same venture , What happens tomorrow - know I would not wish ,

The " yes " or "no " I'm guessing life ,
Olga Mischenkova
We are so sinful , that feelings are not cooled ,
We are so sinful that you have chosen sonnet

witnesses of high incidence
And he forces of the past - Inspiration We are so sinful , that kept the word ,

Walking with him hundreds of millions of miles away ,
and turn the angels ? " No new We see the renunciation and ... graveyard ...
smell death ... But I do not know an hour !