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Serge Belinsky Aug 2015
When the rainy gloomy day
From the gray clouds weaves the arch,
When the heaven of lead acid in the silence
Floating to us vast object,

When the foliage discolor,
And the cries of birds can be heard barely,
And thousands of hums seas
Denunciations from the heavens stronger,

When the winds are changing rules,
And hit the backhand in the discord,
And the air, woven from the the needles,
Sparks all over the blackness,

Suddenly a flash split the day in two,
And the lightning sparkle the bridge,
Connecting the heavenly home and the ground,
Showing the miracle of burning fire.
Serge Belinsky Aug 2015
And again for the card game,
His throw kings in the fold,
Empires had forgotten them in the hastiness,
To find the familiar melody - that was lost, but  always sounds in my dreams.

And jazz is playing and tired pianist whispers something to His fingers,
And guitarist with a shy smile governs the right tone,
And music shades compose the mellifluous long dream,
Where own orchestra in the world of his dreams has been shipped.

Again I am looking for the melody that plagued in His sleep,
Yeah know not destined to hear that melody in the other sounds in reality,
That the lost harmony, that still sounds in me,
And the sheet music signs the pianist reads in the delirium.
Serge Belinsky Jun 2015
Catching a star, rushing forward the frigate,
Through the storm ahead, the bowsprit of his high,
But ahead all the same abyss without borders,
The desert of black waters in silence of latitudes.

Cracks and groans bom-topgallant topmast,
Chiseling strong ezelgof,
Mars and Ray converged with parrel in battle,
With a dream - to get rid of the shackles.

The wave growls, rolling terribly,
And with the power of the wind jib-boom mast on the beats,
And a low, menacing sound of the cello,
It is suddenly heard from the blackening heights,

That drill groans together with a heavy wind,
The key of the forgotten Symphony are trying to find,
And torn violin strings - moaning times through the centuries,
And killed the brave men among depths.

The thunder storm is rushing with noise, howling,
Shaking stars in heavens,
And the thunder echoes it a disparate,
And the frigate is hurtling on the sails.
Serge Belinsky May 2015
Cruel times, cruel hearts of fighters
Going to death under the orders of the fathers,
For the blood that binds them,
Both the brothers who fell and friends still alive,

Brutal century, cruel eyes of the war,
Staring with soulless of Satan on the human world,
Yeah heard journalists huskiness news,
Yes does not relieve a state of alarm of the soldiers ' mothers,
What are waiting for years for news of the children.

Is it possible the war to stop?
All sufferers to give a lot?
Blow out fires, bridges to restore?

But the smell of blood strong for the sharks,
Give no rest, so sweet it is.
When the war starts,
no one of the soldiers do not want ****.

But when the enemy kills a friend, who is close to, then comes the feeling of revenge, and the soldiers start killing out of revenge.
They are taking revenge for the bloodshed.

All the soldiers who honestly had fought for their homeland, is dedicated this poem.
Serge Belinsky May 2015
Friends come, their steps can be heard,
Hands shaking - priceless,
Never ever need to lie - don't miss the lies,
So envy is not needed - surely well be noticed right away,

Friends advent - a rapid stream,
Speeches raging and screaming dots,
The river from the speeches wove into a ball,
What is the theme for the day we call, among other things,

And another sight that stuck the blade,
To the base of the brain burns,
And leafing through the pictures, God knows,
That the truth we are with you respected always ever,

Farewell to friends, for time is always a reproach,
Farewell will not be forced to hurry,
Here, for a moment, and forever,
My dear friends with me abide in your faces forever,
My Friends
Serge Belinsky May 2015
I think the truth is always right.
Duel, measuredly I do count my steps.

Tired eyes, yes, the night was sleepless.
I hope God will not leave me in the wrong.

My opponent, accepted the challenge, did not blink.
Bustling I always respect the bravest.

Yesterday's evening among the tipsy revellers,
May come up today with fresh blood pouring out.

Helen,please forgive me, later you will understand,
The hot breath only the bullet can cool up.

The day begins, my time has come.
But the coming up evening, I hope, will be starry ....
Serge Belinsky Apr 2015
Always right with me, behind my back,
The enslaved don't have hope,
I go, I read, but it stuck with my skin, with me,
The shadow ransacks behind, a nervous contour.

Always to us days conceal a pressure,
There is no ease of space on rising,
The invisible soldier squeezes hoops,
The security guard constant in a campaign.

Steel locks without knowing a tightness,
We live, we slide, meeting on the road,
But shadows..., shadows in a trace thoughtfully look,
Without us they aren't present, without us they a trifle, - dust on soles,
That stuck on a threshold.

"Be rich, or die, trying to become," -
The line in number Ferrari is punched,
The shadow can do everything, doesn't dare to fly only..., -
To the earth an iron chain chained.
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