I’m from...
I’m from the Volga, serene and majestic
from the hands of the clocks that were moving too slow,
from the grip of the woman that was holding my hand,
from the innocent glance, from the dirt on the asphalt.
From Lenin, Karl Marx, Nietzsche,
from Pushkin, Okudzhava, Brodsky and Mayakovsky,
from the dust on the bookshelves turned gold in the light,
and the country that nursed me that dissolved in my sight.
From the triples threat stance: pass, shoot and attack
from the bully that tested my patience
from the sounds that blasted from the radio station
from the college where I searched for my place
from the choices I’ve made and felt no regret
from cigarette smoke that dissolved in the night
to discipline to write my thoughts
from the house I loved and the rural towns I left,
from the image I saw when I looked at myself,
from Emma to Lazarus, from our sunset gates shall stand
to the moment where everything froze in suspense.
And so, gentle reader, enjoy
And welcome to my original.

There were three women in my life.
The first
from Volga winters, mud mixed with snow
A gentle wind and I appeared.
And rocked me in her arms,
A the hole in the fence of the house where I went
And when the sun on my back
to force myself to let go of her hand.

The second one were taken from my rib-cage,
from my rib,
my heart beats with new passion.
Two lone shadows intertwined
cuddling like two gray pigeons
I waiting for her
or did she wait for me?
And when I awoke,
she was still sleeping and sublime,
just as the day she asked me for a smoke
And to this day, she has me mesmerized.

The third one sparkled like a dowry in herself
I observe her,
she makes my patience
from the books I’d read every night in my head
When the evening sky descends,
Stars will shine
to ensure that all her dreams
Stay divine

Now the same three precious fires
in all the beauty that was revealed to me
And I will love her till the end of time.

A rose,
lay motionless under the river
And the love opened the book
until my echo becames flesh.
In the dark nights,
the stars coming
Your name resounded far away
A rose,
lay motionless in the dark night
if you don't awakens
I will leave my heart cold by your side.

Rain
witnessed a song and heaven opened in my chest,
in a fit of madness, I am lost
The deepest pit of ignorance or regret, did not find me.

For the world, the rain said, is the cry of
Laughter and hope of a child,
Wild desires for the beast
and the song he sang about a bird.

It was a kiss of a lover, who walked away
on his lips until he finds a suitable person,
caressing the pain that lured it,
and the ocean becomes a noose.

The lullaby, they say, is about angels that rock the cradle, but now it's a fire
tears from a lost dream
blood, from a melting heart.

Without a voice,
she remembered everything she had forgotten,
both old things & secret, and dreamy.
Libra is her lips squeezed tightly
when she kissed and took his soul.

My love, my passion, my hands

    ... my darkness, my past, my tears

Poets and writers are stricken with poverty.
Modernism is all about the profits.
I’ve sold my soul and blood
And still my name remains unmentioned.