To those, who wasn't loved enough, in fullest measure,
I dedicate my lines to ones being dumped, not treasured.
So many broken hearts are hurt, so plenty,
Always alone and sad, loveless and empty.
But for despair, though, there is no reason,
And Spring will come after heart freezing winter season.

Two passions dwell in poet's heart,
Two desperate obsessions are reflected through his art.
Those are two characters from Shakespeare's poetry triangle:
The dark skinned lady and the man of fair skin ...
His charm is gentle and she's quite a striking beauty queen.
Three lives, three loves in chains of jealousy are fatally entangled ...
Did two conspire secretly behind the poet's back,
Betraying him two times, which caused his soul to wreck?

Immortal Prince keeps coming back to make us look in depth:
What's better choice - to take the life "as is" or challenge it by death.

The white on black, the black on white,
Explosive mix it makes, so easy to ignite
By jealousy venom, injected drop by drop into suspicious mind,
And vicious fantasies force fatal spring of hate to wind.

And there you go ... flame of rage
Burns out lives, while getting out of its mental cage.

In black on white
Bard dared to write
About love, about race,
About trust and its disgrace.

Not lasting was this couple's tragic young romance ...
To taste the sweetness of each other love they lucky were just once.

Time ripped away from me my childhood part.
Time's exorcism has killed my mad possession.
Time put to sleep the rat that gnawed my heart,
But doing so killed in me my dreams and passion.

Joy is blown by wind far away,
No hope brings month February rather.
But shall come warming heart Loving Day
Just upon thirteen days, baker's dozen.

Just before days advance of the cold snowy winter
Autumn's early sunset colors skyline in crimson.
I have dreams of the one, whom I loved in the past,
I am hearing the music, under which we have danced.  

I am dreaming about the youth of the yore,
I have dreams of first love, I am dreaming of her.
I have dreams of first kiss, and forgotten sweet pain,
Dejavu resurrecting comes to heart back again.

Fly to South wild birds to escape winter's terror,
Cleaving sky by flock's wedge, as the tip of an arrow,
And I follow the birds, flying back to my youth,
Reuniting with Spring, leaving realm of dark truth.

I'm soaring up to bare simplicity,
False art's complexity discarding use.
Let feelings chain, undressed explicitly,
Not scare poetry inspiring muse.

Poems, like flowers, often grow out of mud.
But trample them no one can into dirt in vain,
When Poet's words rhyme fastened chain
Weaves fabric strongly tied with reader's heart.

For each of us the fate has meted out length of living,
And, inevitably, at certain day and hour unforgiving,
The Messenger of Death, Finality's Ambassador,
- The man, all dressed in black, appears at the door,
Reminding that approaches end of life's short play,  
And ordering to write a requiem without a delay.

First Love, which lives in each of two young lovers trembling heart,
Being glorified by Shakespear's tragic story of the hope and pain.
Its essence is immortal, it blooms like rose: again, again, again,
Its burning thrill shines in the world, by sin and evil teared apart.

Two bodies's gentle ardent languor merge, filled with elation
Turns satisfaction of the carnal instinct's *******
Into the sacred hymn of the eternal nature's cycle regeneration,
And into solemn ritual of celebrating life's rebirth.

As long as rises sun, heralding coming of the new day's light,
As long as moon brings spirit into the shadow pit of bottomless dark night,
- Oh earthly prose, I beg, please don't overthrow sentiment,
Performed by copulating naked souls Love's holy sacrament.

I do love you, but not for looks of beauty.
You don't shine with womanly appearance traits.
I love performance of your storyteller duty,
With such entrancing art, that deeply penetrates.

In poetry you are both Messalina and Solveig, both nymphomaniac and nun,
You can be angel of the kind caress, or  bully, thought provoking hooligan.
Sometimes you are a child, another times - soothsayer, your pride is mixed with gust of true remorse,
Sometimes you are black stork and witch, sometimes you are the evil's victim innocent white rose.

If you deny me of devotion to your art three times,
And with anathema my feelings cruelly betray,
I don't want to live to sobering sad day
When i forget the poisoned spoil of your enchanting rhymes.

Life only once we are destîned to live.
Love, big as life, in it just may not happen.
But poet dwells in magic country, made of dreams,
Where he can find the reason to be happy.

In poetry I go by the pen name Prince, but yet for me it's not so big endeavor.
Just let the purity and pain, in love for you I feel, in heart of yours will stay forever.

So let as curse, as cruel possession,
To you in darkness, lack of sight,
My hot seducing naked impression
Will come as torture day and night.

And then in throes of lust and carnal passion
In madness agonizing, conjuring and praying,  
For making love to me consuming mad obsession
Price ultimate of death you'll offer to be paying.

Your begging though will be in vain.
My heart will stay indifferently cold.
You fool, forever lying at my feet in pain,
Be able not light fire of my soul.

In love to you, I stopped the run of my life's horse,
By power of my love I raised it up to stay in rack
Then, burning everything, I forced my life to go back
So fire of my soul thy melt the ice of yours.

Don't run away from my poetic lines, which just for you I've penned.
They'll anyway catch up with you - so don't even dream of flight.
They do not hurt - their touch is gentle, please accept them, don't fight,
- Same way as you have used to take your mother's hand.

I traveled back to past to visit realm of shadows,
For Eurydice lost image looking in oblivion grass meadows.
Opened before me long forgotten old days world,
Where love and jealousy lie calmly, put by memory on hold.

But playing Lira can't awake them from the sleepy being
And one can not revive the songs that once were sung.
Once only in life is given to us bloom of spring,
We feel the warmth of summer only once - when we're young.

There is the woman only one from thousands of others out.
When I'm with her I'm the Prince, I'm the beggar - when without.

Is there courage drinking poison once - to brake the body's cage?
- Much harder is to cope with bitter daily taste of overgrown age;
Experience no more the feelings that we yearn,
The longing of the youth, which never will return.

Last sip of tenderness, last breath of love, last line of verse ...
Exhausted, cold and empty is my soul, lost in eternity of Universe.

No one appreciates breakups but yet they happen...
And they cause wounds of hearts,  being very deadly weapon.

Get off the horse, Don Quixote, my knight!
Sad news I have for your ears tonight...
The image of dream blew away as a smoke.
Tired waiting for you keeping heart on the lock,
Dulci got married your friend - Don Juan.
Wind mills are many, but life - only one...

Absurdity of life in spite, through chaos of insanity abuse
The planet lights up by the sparkling moments of the truth,
Uniting life's beginning with the ones who's dead
By endless and immortal times connecting thread.

My love to you burns in a raging flame.
Confess in that alas would be a shame.
Because heart of yours is cold like stone,
And pride of mine can't tolerate to hear: "NO".

There is no sweeter pain on Earth than one, which is Love's demon poison.
Entrust him with your soul and open door to heart - he's also angel, only fallen.
----
Makes feel dizzy, stronger than wine, this crazed sense of love struck magic potion.
Drink it up till it's over, drink to bottom of it, sunk your soul in the wave of emotions.
----
While in captivity, birds don't breed and if they do - it happens very rare.
But poet's misery please do not open cage, he finds his inspiration only there.

Well of my memory is filled with you amidst quite boring sad existance.
Reflection of your image I still see through separation distance.
In vain my mind tells me that useless is compassion ...
My heart still speaks to you, in you it draws inspiration.

Pandora's box, packed with the memories of past,
The source of jealousy, heart break and quarrel.
Don't open it, by no means, to your loved ones,
- For them those stories bring snake bites of sorrow.
----
Кeep sacred secret of your love - by no one be mentioned,
Because just by one, to you devoted loving heart, your love deserves attention.
----
Our lives - are distant islands, each is caught in own cage,
Love of two is torn asunder by the difference in age.

While heart is pushing blood in veins, it's always braced for love, no matter will it bring: the joy or peril,
And how heart on Earth could feel - incapable to grasp in Heaven or in Hell, nor angel, neither devil.
---
Alas, with destiny no one can argue.
To some it's generous, for others there is no bargain.
Not fairly the fate awards us with love gift;
Those lucky ones get lots of it, unfortunate get grief.
----
Love is a mystery of two enchanted hearts.
They don't teach the laws of love in schools.
Love can not be explained by wisest of the smarts,
-When fell in love, they too become love's fools.
----
Melt my heart, thaw it of frost, bring me hope, which I've lost.

I don't comprehend why life is so short, I don't comprehend how vast is universe,
Alas I know that despair, loneliness and pain are parts of poet's everlasting curse.
----
Though nightingales get older too and their warbling during nights alas gets shorter,
But poet's trembling heart refuses to be calm, because love and art are both immortal.
----
The famous Mona Lisa smile, projects it mystery of earthly women's wisdom grace...
I saw its shadow, hidden in the eyes of mad and homeless female beggar's face.
----
Hours are flying, years - running, and centuries shall pass,
And just Art's magic surely knows where lies to Glory path.

Man's tenderness is stingy on the words, rare are male tears, which have the taste of salt,
But heart of man is not, however, bound by the armor, made of steel, and not protected is from pain his soul.
----
When time and distance violate hearts closeness sensation,
It's difficult to find right words expressing loving and affection.
----
Time lines, globe covering in circles tight,
They guard their borders during day and night.
Like sentries on the duty, they are on patrol,
They separate our love by time and distance wall.
----
Let rain of love keep pouring - it's much better than the hail of hate.
Soul's desert it will into  blooming garden turn in sudden change of fate.

There are in life some rare moments, which make the living worth it's price,
When talk is done directly by two pairs, two pairs in each other sunken eyes.
----
The world is full with novelty, but only one will always stay in fashion,
There is no greater wonder one could find on Earth, than wonder of love passion.
----
Perhaps the power of the Death is one and only force, which cuts  
The chain, that yet connects for life two loving parted hearts.
----
When two decide to set each other free, to break and part,
The cut runs not between the two, but deeply through each lover bleeding heart.

If the sadness sneaked by sudden into heart,
Do not share grief and sorrows with beloved.
Don't show her your worries, pain, don't say a word.
Let the calm of one you love be undisturbed.

Makes feel dizzy, stronger than wine, this crazed sense of love struck magic potion.
Drink it up till it's over, drink to bottom of it, sunk your soul in the wave of emotions.

Two worlds exist in parallel within the realm of human senses:
One - Love, the other - shadows's refuge, asylum of ghosts.
While second, freezing cold, is deadly dull and infinitely empty,
The myriads of stars, each lit by souls in love, the first one hosts.

Let in the coming year feels no one heart's hardened,
No one be left without consolation in the grief and gloom.
Let at midnight in every soul, like in Spring's garden,
Flowers of love and happiness as in a miracle to bloom!

In parting, let memorized ones come to me - all those by whom I was betrayed,
And those, whom I betrayed, who was by me in vanity unfairly forgotten.
To ones, who were in love with me, I should apologize in life's last, final day,
To others, that I loved, I say "forgive" from heart's deep very bottom.

Where light of heaven doesn't reach,
Lies world where sense is blind.
It's dark and there logic fails to preach,
- Mysterious as forest is this place for Human mind.

Open up there guts of earth
In the abyss of time and space,
Where intertwined are life and death,
Being bound in embrace.

In love there is a lot of bitterness and pain.
It's strange, but they hurt stronger in old age,
When impulses of heart continue to rage,
But mind already dares not to hope in vain.

The time's succession order still lives on,
Still moments fly same way as always was through ages.
But old man's mind does not accept the changes,
While getting ready to embrace the fall into oblivion.

The fate is good to some, to others - pain.
So was it, is, will always be again.
Awards gives sparingly, yet generous to beat,
Weaves for elected ones just only two gifts.
So was it, is, and will continue on and on:
A Laurel wreath, and a crown of thorns.

Like rivers flow into ocean
Time doesn't stop its steady motion.
And only Love without caution
Survives the time through its Devotion.

The world is full with novelty, but only one will always stay in fashion,
There is no greater wonder one could find on Earth, than wonder of love passion.

Give me chariot with horses, bearing likeness of Pegasus,
I would soar on their wings, reaching top of mount Parnassus.
I would leave the Rocinante under care of Sancho Panza,
I'd forget of Dulcinea, drop romance unfinished stanza.

My poetic inspiration would uplift me over prose,
I would stretch my hands in trying to embrace the sinful Earth.
All the planet's mortal dwellers I would make cry, pray and curse.
May my art of playing lyre be Apollo's cheering worth.

As reward God gives to Poet magic gift of divine seer,
To foretell its own fortune to the readers and his peers.
But the poetry is powerless, can't protect the bard from death,
Will not shield from fateful ending, will not hide from cruel chase.

Pity is, but wings of glory can not change life's fatal bound.
Will not notice that dead rider dropped from saddle and fell down,
Horses will continue running with their cruel pace in keeping.
Only Muse, the Dulcinea, will shed tears in mournful weeping.

To those, who wasn't loved enough, in fullest measure,
I dedicate my lines to ones being dumped, not treasured.
So many broken hearts are hurt, so plenty,
Always alone and sad, loveless and empty.
But for despair, though, there is no reason,
And Spring will come after cold winter season.

Even though tightly fits into the sphere certain cube,
Rejected she his love, because he is primitive and rude:
"Alliance between us would really be looking very strange,
I am developed fully, your intellect stands far below my range!"

I wander through the resting place of love, the abode of disappointed hopes.
Grass of oblivion can't be found on this ground, there is no pain relieving herbs.
So many restless hearts are buried here, lying abandoned, cheated, burnt.
Not once nostalgia, for the feast of memory, will ask me to this place return.

Once to triangle said oval: "There is no merit in answering by blow to a blow.
In figure of your character itself laid is the foundation of your failure, though.
I smoothly bend all obstacles around, while you are shaping all misfortunes of your fate.
Being hurt by cornering yourself is your distinctive trait."

Sraight line is boastful, being so righteously direct.
It thinks of self as borderless, is always forward towards progress aimed,
Deceived by nature's false simplicity, by pride of ignorance being blinded bad,
Just doesn't know, that eventually it comes full circle also at the end.

With condescendence circumference selfishly once said to spiral:
"You are ridiculous and useless curve, my popularity is viral!"
So you, the poet, in vanity, being only with talent of your own bound,
Believe that center of the world you are, and all the rest rotates around.