Вірші
Our life is like a tale
Our life is like a tale,
Wonders on us entail.
Alas my dear, those wonders
Make our hearts always quail.
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How many years might have passed...
How many years might have passed
Since the Life with love us bussed?
Don't remeber?! So do I!
Those lips gave us only blight!
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Mother made an evening dinner...
Mother made an evening dinner.
In abundance she made the meal,
And went to her room to dress herself
For the guests long anticipated.
When she came close to the dinner table,
She saw her son devouring her toil.
In angry voice she contempted her child:
"It was for guests my dear young lad! "
The boy chewed what he had in mouth,
Then swallowed what teeth had crushed
With inquiring face said to mother:
"Am I not a guest in this world dear mama?
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Path Home
I, raised my eyes to see
Future, embraced by the night.
I, turned back to see
Dusk, willing to depart.
Slowly moving forward I
Turn blind, to my benign
That awaits in my final trial.
Till that, gloom shall I abide.
Not even dim light is seen ahead
In path languidly tread.
Stumbling, falling all way long,
Still, willing to go where I belong.
No moon there is in heaven
To shed a light on path.
No stars there are to follow
To guide you through this realm.
Reach, the journeys end
Is design of my endeavour.
Since meaning blend in void
Is not worth the labour.
Several years were now trudged,
Enveloped in this blindness,
But deplored heart still retained
Hope, to see the brisk of light.
Slowly my eyes begin to squint…
Ah! If someone now could see
Or feel, what I can feel and see.
A morning shine in vicinity!
(And a place to call home!)
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Lamb
Here lies pastorless lamb,
Torn and ripped all apart.
In his ere days he left profane
World that bears merciless fangs.
No one reared him in worldly wisdom
On how to survive in this bitter realm.
He moved from grazing grounds
Unaware of danger along his life.
No herd had he to feel commune,
No strange figure that is humane,
To be stern but keep him on path
And unharmed till his time will come.
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Are we someone's dream?
There was a dream I saw at night
While wrapped in a woolen blanket,
Upon which I thought too much
Without letting go from mind.
There was company of young men
Whose voices I could not hear,
But deaf I was not for one,
About him, I will relate.
I will not write about the eye,
About the age, about the dye.
Only words with his voice hued,
I will tell about it now.
“We all might be someone’s dream you say?
I do not think so, it can’t be!
I am conscious and can feel;
I am real, I am no one’s dream!”
Maybe, it was not a dream
And I looked through distant eye.
Maybe he is actually real
And lives his own wholesome life.
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While eyes of the dead are soundly shut...
While eyes of the dead are soundly shut
Seeing benevolent afterdreams,
Life casts malevolent earlydreams
Full of pain and agony.
Living seeks the sealness,
For his own sake
And curtains the mighty real.
Artificial obsession to stay alive
And not in comfort lie,
Have they created the word of “Law”.
Petty is it in front
Of waving worldly might,
Changing it in flick of light.
The unnatural daily dreams of ours
Deprives us from our genuine peace
Of which we harshly were summoned
To suchly be summoned back.
At last, when head on soft pillow lie,
Hope, will get what is desired
In a heavenly reality’s might.
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Meeting Janniel
When I first saw you in nightfield,
Thought you were a usual human,
Saw how a glowing you have unsealed,
Thousands of fireflies I have seen.
That tempted me to get closer to you,
To understand how you illuminated the night,
While with silent steps approaching to you,
I waited for my innermost to give me a cue.
What are these? What have you ignited?
Why fires still hover in an empty air?
I have never seen this, I was so benighted.
With my ignorance I approached without being invited.
Suddenly, I felt passing through water wall,
What I saw just step ago changed in another step,
Now livings changed to endless black hall,
With infinite sparks enlighting that dreadful hall.
Then my mind has reacted to what I see,
"Welcome to our world" said the voice,
With heartwarming laughter that was free
From reproach, to uninvited guest, as he had foreseen.
"This, my dear is our world as I said,
I can make myself big or small.
Don't be afraid to move and tread,
As you don't have a power to be a threat."
I roamed freely in a tightly compressed world,
Naturally waved myself among these dust,
My behaviour affected nothing in this dreamworld,
As if transparent ghost was this world.
"It is real, it is just you that lack ability",
Then somehow world started to enlarge.
After it stopped to and I recalled in fiery
Our galaxy, Earth that was in vivacity.
With both hands in a begging way,
I moved my hands underneath the Sun,
Lowered my cheek on it to pay
Respect and get a kiss from the master of these rays...
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The Morning Moon
A balming wind of the morning rise,
When Sun newly on the horizon rise,
I see a Moon that is not aside,
But slowly is fading in azure sky.
The closest friend of Earth
In nights, It blessings on us bequeth
With lullingly voice to us had quethe
Long ago: "Sleep my dears in my embrace!"
For that we thank Moon in night,
For precious peace and for a quiet,
For soul and mind that is not excite,
That we rest under your shining light.
But to see you in the morning light
Is strange for my eyes and mind.
Not tired looking at your visage,
Yet please shine in eventide.
(Though you look marvelous in daylight time)
P.S. I might have some grammar mistakes.
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The Owl
He, who in morning day is quite,
The owl, the bird of vespertine
The hunter of the night
In folks tongue "the wise".
He observes everything in the forest
With his all rounding head.
Will envy to his robust
Patience and hearing a human head
In forest nothing has changed.
Creatures live as they used to live.
The way they hunt never been rearranged
And for food they never used to strive.
In forest rarely human treads are seen.
So, peacefully the wood, animals do sleep.
Woods are not afraid as a woodpile to demean,
Animals because of humans to weep.
From the near village humans do come,
But not all and not so often they are seen.
The hunters step for their purpose,
After taking they do abandon the scene.
And so do the fishermen, mushroom-pickers and the others.
For long do stay only those who escapes the smothers.
Night time visitors have their own preference
Compared to the guests of the day light time.
Among nightfolks there are difference
Of what they do in vespertine.
The underage trod for bravery.
After, they tell about their journey to their peers to impend
How they left the forest in cursory
As something happened that they cannot understand.
Then, the lads that are not binded with marriage,
But that are overwhelmed with love
Try their lasses to encourage
To leave parent's house for a time and under a nocturnal trees to belove.
Some find a moonlight piercing place,
So with songs and poetic words to share their love.
Some try to find the darkest place,
So no one could see how with moaning sounds they share their love.
More older folks stay out of woodland,
In house they have sweet talk with their spouses.
The eldest folks gather the smallest for fairyland
With tales of their own ventures and legends of the heroes.
The owl sits and observes all of it
Of what happens in the night.
He silently catches the mice not only to eat
He takes the information and their lives to abate,
As mouse sneaks through every hole,
He sniffs and sees what owl can't see
And the owl wants to know all,
For he can't without knowledge be.
Animals come to owl for advice,
But mostly nothing is heard in return.
He seldomly stops the vice,
Scarcely does something to change the turn.
The owl rarely shares with his wisdom.
He multiplies but it is locked for others.
What is the worth of your wisdom
When you don't share it with others?
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The vixen
The dark furred vixen
In the solemn full moon night
Covered in nocturnal nature self
Escapes from the the stray dogs
But just one wrong step
And she is in cycle again
Now the blood on her neck
Goes down and drops from her leg
With a stech of her wound
And the reddened trail of her pad
Lures already blood-thirsty hounds
To play her last unwelcomed act
Withered from blood and strength
She leaves the forest and touches the glade
Where the shining moon kisses her with the rays
And calls her near to allay her pain
She crawls to the horizon
Where the promises awaits
Without doubting the probity of luna
Believing the sincereness of tales
And here is the sound of terror heard
She tries to escape from her own hearse
But vixen is weak and she is slow
Unlike chasing her bloody dogs
She crawls till she gets trapped
By the danger she was fleeing
And now she gets stabbed
And expires her last breathing
She ment no harm for others
Tried to hunt creatures in wilds
And did not touch the domestic lairs
So how she ended up here? The owl will tell!
The owl observes everything in the night
And tells the vixen what she will be up to night.
But the reckless creature does not understand
And continues to wander in her fairy land
The night the owl have heard
How stray hounds talked about the hunt
And the next pray of their game
Must have been the vixen that walks astray
Now she tastes the bitterness of her mistake
Mistake, that she will for her whole life disdain.
She prays to have another chance.
But can dead have or use a chance?
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(Without a name)
There are things that should not be told
Things that should be hindered in a soul
Things that should be covered on a cemetry stone
Things that can be harmful to the world
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Nothing New
Guess what happened to me today?
Nothing special from yesterday,
Like the day before yesterday.
Nothing happened to me today.
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Janniel (The Keeper of the Universe)
Have I ever seen a universe with all its grace,
And every creature therein abides?
Verily! I have seen everything and what therein abides.
Withal! The very world of our Enchanter I have seen!
The world of His is beautiful as our dream,
No, much beauteous and supreme.
And it changes while we highly of it deem
Creating new masterpiece, that our fancy has not yet seen.
While I walk among all of this wonders
Even the worst is not kept asunder.
On reverse! It complements this wanders.
Even the pessimal have charms that is worthy to be seen
I prefer His world and in His I want to be.
Rather than of best world of a human being.
Where lawlesness will always reign And under the mask of law it will prevail.
I watch how You incite new art to appear
And then you leave, so your art grows itself
And after death of one, the new apears .
How I am proud to be the observer of Your art!
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The Look
The eyes that looked full of wit
Swapped its inquiry mien to me
And with gaze read my mind,
Leaving no secret inside of me.
She kept looking and with it
She drained my soul then moved by,
She unlocked my heart and in it
I felt a life that nearly died
The heart started to enliven
Recalling the times when I fairly smiled.
She proved, there is a life after death.
That proof: smile that has revived.
Then she moved her eyes away
And returned the stolen parts
From which my heart was again confined,
But not so strong as in the past.
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