You are the truth,
and I — just grass.
Names burn in dry leaves,
unquenched by the past.

They cannot be extinguished —
so we live on.
Summer will whisper my love,
tell of this city and a girl
who’s lost somewhere above.

He spoke slowly:
“Death — just a little door…
It’s good it was left
by the sky’s absence. No more”.

The darkness spreads
wider,
wider,
wiiiiiiiiiider.

I lie back, staring
up at the ceiling
in a quiet room.
The grass keeps stealing
a beam from windowsill’s gloom.

And the only light
in the world
hangs silent, curled
by the window, furled.

16.05.2025

Do you know that cat?
He always roams around,
a grey-headed wanderer
with an endless meow.


Soft paws trace the road,
gliding over rooftops.
A silent leap - he lands on a balcony
among frozen peonies.


Yellow eyes watch intently,
unblinking, still.
He sees the darkening night
and the moon hanging chill.


Gloom descends upon the city,
whispers drift through the world.
They speak together -
that cat and a blackened spot.


Fleeting murmurs
on a wooden branch in the park -
only the old oak knows
what was said in the dark.


The city breathes in fog
and exhales dim light,
the night air’s coolness
whispering prayers at twilight.


A quick slip into the shop -
white concrete, creaking floors.
Do you know that cat?
He’s always near, but never your’s.

06.03.2025

— Am I old? — I asked the youths.
— That depends. How old are you?
— Sixty-two.
— Then I guess you’re old. It’s true.
Have you seen old Lenin’s face?
— Of course. I stood beside him there,
On an armored car, in pride and grace,
Waving banners in the air.

I walk home like a dinosaur.
From the window Lena cries:
— Buy some apples from the market!
Check they have no bruised sides!

And suddenly, I’m young again,
A girl who cannot pick good fruit.
Lena’s ninety-six — and then,
Still thinks I’m young and cute.

The policeman shakes his head:
— Is Lena strong and still alive?
— Yes, — I nod. —  She’s not yet dead.
And marvel how we yet survive.

If you want to be young and bold,
And not feel like a dinosaur,
Be with slow and with the old —
Not just the age you fit before.

11.04.2025

Rustling, noisy, smashing leaves,
Rushing, tearing, howling breeze.
The wind wails low, and grass below
Rustles like a river’s flow.

Birds dart madly through the skies,
Beating wings with frantic cries.
Wide they spread to trap and keep
The breath of drafts that twist and sweep.

Nature stirs in wild parade,
Calling all to shift and fade.
Heavy drops fall through the haze,
Silver thunder, bloom and blaze.

Drumming raindrops crash and land,
Like a stormy marching band.
The world turns wild in roaring strain,
While children mutter: “Rain, rain, rain…

Go away,
Come again,
Another day…”

Then —
WHAM!
A hammer of rain smashes down,
A shriek, “Aaaaah!”, tears through the town.
Little feet scatter and slip on the ground,
As laughter and screams swirl all around.

Nature devours the space,
Drowning all other sounds.
It breaks through in roaring chase —
Until it all calms down.

25.04.2025