< Felix Komarov
Do not I live in my soul lives ...
Her fear and grief are unknown
And by the body fragile raft,
It floats up from the abyss and the abyss.
It is not light, but there is no darkness ...
Is inseparable from the creatures,
It is about God sees
And breathe in them without regrets.
It has no reproaches, no pain
Where everything is taken in the world?
How bright dream is replaced by delusions,
In it the soul as a target in a shooting gallery,
Breaking through, the death of a sieve,
Succumb to slavery flesh ...
And always say "not»
No rest and no work.
Not that, not that not that not that ...
Nothing we can not be held
And we are always in someone else's coat
Bredёm from hell to hell again
Who are we? Frustrated eyes of the Creator?
Shards of emptiness ringing?
The kings did not know the crown?
Perhaps most children in the dark?
The answer is, I do not say a word,
Do not write his poems ...
As it can only fly,
When the soul has forgiven us