RVKardashov - Hello Poetry

The doors are open, there's fog outside in the morning, The lock is silent and the doorknob doesn't creak, I met my night – alone, not in a hospital room! I didn't close the door at home until morning, I waited for you all night – alone! In the morning, fog rolls in near the forest, The night was terrible and rainless, You left and I waited for you alone, In the morning, I met the fog alone on the grass, My little hand creaked in the street, I went out in the morning to look at the grass, Mid-morning, the grass was waiting for me like a white bed, I've never seen storks in the sky, But now I saw above the crowns of the huge willows, Autumn, morning, and only fog, Met me in the morning with a stork, You left this lonely world for me, How will I live and sleep alone, Your warmth is no longer on my bed, I don't care about myself anymore. I'll hear a gentle voice or laughter far away, A year from now, a citizen, it will remind me by chance, A passerby in my city will pass by, I always yearn for you alone, I forget the nights with joy and you, I vividly remember the warm bed, I hug you tightly - as if I remembered you before!

0

Jan 20

Jan 20, 2026 at 4:41 PM UTC

Foggy Nights

The doors are open, there's fog outside in the morning, The lock is silent and the doorknob doesn't creak, I met my night – alone, not in a hospital room! I didn't close the door at home until morning, I waited for you all night – alone! In the morning, fog rolls in near the forest, The night was terrible and rainless, You left and I waited for you alone, In the morning, I met the fog alone on the grass, My little hand creaked in the street, I went out in the morning to look at the grass, Mid-morning, the grass was waiting for me like a white bed, I've never seen storks in the sky, But now I saw above the crowns of the huge willows, Autumn, morning, and only fog, Met me in the morning with a stork, You left this lonely world for me, How will I live and sleep alone, Your warmth is no longer on my bed, I don't care about myself anymore. I'll hear a gentle voice or laughter far away, A year from now, a citizen, it will remind me by chance, A passerby in my city will pass by, I always yearn for you alone, I forget the nights with joy and you, I vividly remember the warm bed, I hug you tightly - as if I remembered you before!

27

Towards morning, a man lies on a bench near the train station... And the street is empty except for jackdaws and flying birds... I stand on the sidewalk with my bag, silently in the distance... I myself came to the city from distant lands, not to visit. My time is unusual... I myself have forgotten how to play billiards... I have no money, and there is nothing more beautiful to me than love... Next to the bus stop, a man in a down jacket is lying... I became lost in thought and stood nearby, waiting... It's morning, and it's time for me to wait for the driver... Business trips or a one-way trip... I was lost in thought at a bus stop in Tver, alone. I wait, stand, look at the holy building and the Christmas trees around it... I didn't have to stand and wait long with my bags... A stranger, a homeless man, rose from the bench. I'm standing waiting for the bus and looking at a tall building... A man passing by nudges me in the elbow... A skinny, scrawny man stands next to a backpack... Will you drink some ***** from the bottle with me... I'm leaving work now to go home... A man passing by says to me, holding my backpack... I reply: "Hello, pour me some!" I took out my paper cup, my coffee-brown one... The man poured me a glass of ***** I didn't drink it right away, and I felt a little better, a little better, though... The man drank from the bottle himself, quickly and silently... And he stood there silently and said briefly: "Don't get sick and I wish you success!" I hid my paper cup in my backpack... And the stranger walked away from me, past the fir trees... He was driving from work to the train station, returning home! And I stood and waited for my bus and work in Tver... And a white, homeless man stood on a bench on the asphalt and smoked.

0

Jan 20

Jan 20, 2026 at 4:38 PM UTC

Beggar

Towards morning, a man lies on a bench near the train station... And the street is empty except for jackdaws and flying birds... I stand on the sidewalk with my bag, silently in the distance... I myself came to the city from distant lands, not to visit. My time is unusual... I myself have forgotten how to play billiards... I have no money, and there is nothing more beautiful to me than love... Next to the bus stop, a man in a down jacket is lying... I became lost in thought and stood nearby, waiting... It's morning, and it's time for me to wait for the driver... Business trips or a one-way trip... I was lost in thought at a bus stop in Tver, alone. I wait, stand, look at the holy building and the Christmas trees around it... I didn't have to stand and wait long with my bags... A stranger, a homeless man, rose from the bench. I'm standing waiting for the bus and looking at a tall building... A man passing by nudges me in the elbow... A skinny, scrawny man stands next to a backpack... Will you drink some ***** from the bottle with me... I'm leaving work now to go home... A man passing by says to me, holding my backpack... I reply: "Hello, pour me some!" I took out my paper cup, my coffee-brown one... The man poured me a glass of ***** I didn't drink it right away, and I felt a little better, a little better, though... The man drank from the bottle himself, quickly and silently... And he stood there silently and said briefly: "Don't get sick and I wish you success!" I hid my paper cup in my backpack... And the stranger walked away from me, past the fir trees... He was driving from work to the train station, returning home! And I stood and waited for my bus and work in Tver... And a white, homeless man stood on a bench on the asphalt and smoked.

30

On a cold and sunny day, the sparrow sings, And morning and afternoon, the sparrow sings over the strawberries, But the strawberries in the flowerbed are silent, their red gleams on the grass, The sparrow embraces their innocent juice, On a branch, the singer sits and silently eats. The sparrow sings for a sweet night's lodging in the house of the young mistress, He hops passionately, fluttering his wings like fluff, But the sweet strawberry doesn't know, and the sparrow has reached her— To whom is he singing and why? He pecks the entire huge strawberry greedily, He devours the strawberries like an elephant and swallows them, His songs are so sad, and he gulps down the juice, choking on the pulp alone. Patience is at its limit, but the sparrow has always been as sensitive as an eagle. He wanted to become an eagle, and have a sharper beak for hunting animals. How could the Creator compare the eagle to the crow and the sparrow?

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Jan 19

Jan 19, 2026 at 2:43 PM UTC

Sparrow

On a cold and sunny day, the sparrow sings, And morning and afternoon, the sparrow sings over the strawberries, But the strawberries in the flowerbed are silent, their red gleams on the grass, The sparrow embraces their innocent juice, On a branch, the singer sits and silently eats. The sparrow sings for a sweet night's lodging in the house of the young mistress, He hops passionately, fluttering his wings like fluff, But the sweet strawberry doesn't know, and the sparrow has reached her— To whom is he singing and why? He pecks the entire huge strawberry greedily, He devours the strawberries like an elephant and swallows them, His songs are so sad, and he gulps down the juice, choking on the pulp alone. Patience is at its limit, but the sparrow has always been as sensitive as an eagle. He wanted to become an eagle, and have a sharper beak for hunting animals. How could the Creator compare the eagle to the crow and the sparrow?

15