Cosmic Trajectory





My rainy pleasure,
My cloudy kiss.
Who can measure
This cosmic bliss?

Miscellany of thought
And clarity of mind.
What am I?
I forgot.
A bird? A tree?
What kind?


I'm getting whirled up in the star mess.
I couldn't be happy on Earth, I guess.
That's why I'm flying,
    flying Nowhere...




Jan. 12, 1981




             *                *                *




To M.M.




The flame of my cigarette lights up the ash-tray.
We are together, but I feel lonely at the end of the day.
Fall asleep, you're tired, I know.
But don't show me that love has gone. It can't be so.


You think, I'm crazy.
Perhaps, you're right.
But every writer has the right to write.


We love only once
   and life goes by...



Summer 1980
Leningrad



 
                              *               *               *





That was the night of inward probing.
That was the night of making friends.
That was a sleepless night of coping
With flame of our hands.



That was the night of hidden fire.
That was the night of self-restraint.
When regained my dead desire,
When I was praying to you, my Saint.


That was life's burning stream of Lethe,
When I was floating in to the Past.
That was the first and the last time I'm with thee.
Here comes the Morning. Night can't ever last.




March 1982


                   


                                *                *                 *
 



The Island (A Letter)


June 1982




12th   I don't know what to write to you,
       It's raining all day long.
       I don't know how to talk to you.
       Its' gong to prolong.



13th    The ravens cry high above,
        The wind sways the cobweb in my room.
        I'm all alone on the Island.
        There's no room for feeling.
        It's all cold, my love.



14th    I've been dissolving in the Middle Ages,
        In history - its fortresses and churches.
        And now my inspiration parches
        And I float 'long the pages.



15th    There is an old shabby church here
        With an old forlorn cemetery near.
        When I go there at Night
        I see a Man in White.
        He stands at the cemetery rear.



 



                              *                 *               *




To M.M.




When all the stars shine in the Southern Sky
And I, though sick, go out to watch the night.
I see your eyes and feel that you're mine,
My ever lasting love of glaring light.




1984






                               *                 *               *





Oh, yes. We were together,
We were alone.
We watched the play of night and not a feather
Was blown.




Still were the ponds and burning candles,
Those in the sky,
Threw vague reflections upon the waters,
So meak and shy.




The place was old and old sensations
Flashed through our souls.
The Night was showing divine creations,
Was playing roles.



The magic stick was faintly stirring
The sacred Past.
Our youth, so fast ans so rip-roaring,
Which couldn't last.


The giddy Moon could easily render
The ancient Time.
The Night was warm, the Night was tender.
And you were mine.




1985




                                *               *                *



Nothing has happened.
What is inside me
No one will know.


Maybe it's passion.
Maybe you lied to me -
Soon you will go.


Shall I regret it?
Shall I forget it?
Noone can tell.


Winter is rolling.
Our youth is falling.
Deep is the well.




Nov. 29, 1986






                                 *               *                *





Your fingers caressing the flame of the candle
Were scaring my pain.
Desire was floating - to dangle, to dandle
The lovable rain.


The creak of the skylight and show of the shadows
And crack of the floor.
The Winter stepped back letting out the meadows
And love ever more.


The Magical Past that was deep, that was dear
Fell down like a leaf.
And Mystery hovered about... quite near
And over the cliff.



March 30-31, 1987




                                 *                *                 *





Two shadows on the Road of Night.
Two shadows on the Earth
Move up the hill drunk with delight
Of starry birth.


Their talk is silence and the Sea
Plays fancy words along.
And drags the Time of you and me.
The stars are strong.


The wind will blow into the face
The fear of early dawn.
And stars will fall into disgrace
On Heaven's Lawn.




Sept. 1987
Koktebel





                                 *                 *                *





My flesh is silent and my mind serene.
We are together - each of us alone,
But never lonely. 
Pure ulrtamarine
Reins on the Island. That is Autumn. Only.



You'll never turn my head or break my heart.
I'm happy being balanced, being blank.
We're now together, soon we'll be apart.
And no regret - I'm absolutely frank.



The Southern Sky, the roaring of the Sea,
The Stars and mountains and the smell of salt.
I shall remember all, but you and me.
That's no one's fault.





Autumn, 1987,
Koktebel




                                    *               *              *




There is no chance for you and me.
No real human chance.
And our love will ever be
A trascendental dance.


My blind desire flows at night
Along the Milky Way.
My mind becomes a stream of light,
Death-dealing ray.


Your fire will find dry firewood
Inside my core.
And we shall burn whirled in this mood
Once more.


Your dreams will lull me in your lap
And kiss me and caress.
You'll spot me on the starry map,
Hear me in the Moon's Mass.




Jan.25,1988





                                      *              *              *




There suddenly came a miracle -
He and She.
Two white butterflies
Floated in the sea
Of a white flower's love,
Their wings overlapping.
They were happy.
We watched them from above -
You and Me.




Summer 1988






                                        *             *             *





I've spent the whole day with my love
Who is so fond of the Sky,
So fond of the Height.
Whose eyes are as blue as the Sky
And high as the highest Height.


I've spent the whole night with my love
Who is so fond of the Sea,
So fond of the Depth.
Whose eyes are as blue as the Sea
And deep as the deepest Depth.



August 1988






                                         *             *             *




We've lived a long life togeter - you and I.
Made love in fine and nasty weather - all in my mind's eye.
And you don't even know that - poor you.
Will you ever regret my adieu?
You won't even hear my adieu...




1988




                                            *              *            *



To J. C.-F.




Six years passed -
We met in Stockholm.
Me - a foreigner.
You - at home.



We talked of age and distance and Time,
Eternity, Life and Death. 
A glass of white wine touched a glass of red wine
And both were excited, I guess.


You told me again:
"You'll always be there."
And fine drops of rain hang up on the air.
The water stopped floating
  so much surprised
    to hear the sounds of Paradize.


Two hours passed 
 in feudal Stockholm.
They couldn't last -
   we both went home.
Not the same place...


Invisible lace
Of our words
 hovering high
   to feed the birds...





August 1989, Stockholm





                             *                *                *




To A Man


Thinking about Riza Jones



Don't touch a waman
For she might be gone
To distant floating islands,
Far-off lands.
And all the things of ordinary life
Won't hold a candle to that Secret World.

So, when it's over she will search again
For this sensation,
Mesmerising Light
And will be wandering in the Outer Space
Looking for Love,
That you can never give...


So, step aside,
Stop your desire tides
And thank the Lord
For keeping you from this.
Let her stay innocent,
Look at the sky-blue Sky,
Think of the rivers
Going to the Sea
And never know
The Blasting Heart of Fire.



Autumn 1992




                                  *                 *                 *




To Alex



Do you love me at early dew
When the Sun sets up in the Sky
To work for the heavy Earth
And it's time to go out to work?


Do you love in the afternoon
When the Sun as all blossom and hight,
The Earth is worn out by the heat
And you're eager to break for lunch?



Do you love me at half past five
When the Sun dissolves in the day,
The Earth's getting ready to rest
And you feel it's time to go home?


Do you love me when Midnight comes,
The Moon soaks itself in the ink
Of the deep black ocean-like Sky
And your mind's going out to God?


Do you love me?


April 2, 1996



                                  *                *                 *



My February love,
The dream of melting snow,
The dream of happiness,
  which is not doomed to be.
Imaginary foam,
  stylistically new form
    when passions separate from me...



March 1996





                                  *                *                  *

to be continued