"And there was no kiss, but only almost kiss ..."

And there was no kiss,
but only almost kiss,
long ago, in my youth the former,
the former of our sea,
the warm sun day
almost bluish sand,
and not even the lips,
but only on the lips shelushinki
They touched each other for a moment,
and vyronennaya
cigarette with almost no female
bite flickered as "tsitsinatella»,
in young dark-skinned feet.

And it was almost embrace,
but, suddenly startled,
my hand suddenly stumbled
on a wet pit cherries,
adhering to the vertebra,
and it seemed to me
WARNING nature,
I do not have the right
in love to turn - and only - what is stronger than love

. And the best woman in the world - a smoker, clever, lively person,
mother, grandmother, knigoedka,
nurse widows,
dissidents and literary chicks,
My greatest reader
and the greatest friend of mine - a person on behalf of evading
and moving over the whole body,
decision to take over,
I said loudly, but quietly:
"And, you know, it's too late ...»,
and these words pushed
with its shelushinok
on earth my late - almost kiss

. Indeed, it was too late.
We know each other too.
We too were friends houses.
We loved each other too - So too, it
nor friendship was, nor love,
neither women nor men,
but something else is greater,
than a woman and a man,
and most of it anymore,
probably nothing.

We are always on the "you" said.
"You" we never came,
and has not grown cherry
of bones in the sand.
But some of us grow - we grew all of each other,
and new
the generations hatch in us.

I miss you, like life,
and the life was not enough.
I come to you in the grave,
When not come.
You do not dream of the Black Sea?
I'm still there, on the border
captivatingly strict "you»,
and dig in the old fashioned way,
a transparent border post,
in the wet beach beach
a bottle of wine Gulripshi,
and it smells like strawberries,
and life, the great accidentally,
and perhaps because,
that we had our secrets,
are not accidental,
as a mystery almost kiss,
and nameless feelings,
more than only love.



Yevgeny Yevtushenko

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