Secrets of the craft

               my translation, based on the poem by Anna Ahkmatova (1899-1966)

		I do not need the odic armies, and the elegiac beauty of ploys. For me, in the poems all should be amiss, not about the human joy. If you only knew, from whence poems grow, without shame, like the yellow dandelion by the fence, like burdock and sesame. An angry shout, the smell of fresh tar, the mysterious mold on the wall... And the verse sounds perky, tender to the delight of all.

First impression

my world

be aware

Lifeguard

Healing

		the faces, the key events're flashing from past, grow in the chain I connect in one thread to pull through the eye of the needle to sew the ripped part of me pierced with Light to heal, to give life to me new, transformed to higher dimension... Oh! how easy to breathe... Do I have a body?

The proofs

		waking up every day at 4:44 am  - do I need more proofs for knowing: I am loved, you here for me to support, to guide on Earth - 'just Listen because it's your turn to honor the life, the people who strive to spread the Love on the Earth'.

Image credit: demonsmeetsangels.deviantart.com

We come from a childhood

		A sudden wind peeped through, walked in circles, drew an invisible line between us, played the fool, taunted... the question was asked eight times in a row about fixing shutters... ...the parade continued, pulled from behind the simulated curtain - slides flashed with smallest details with such confidence in their right to exist today as yesterday, past waved with little flags and balloons of various shapes to remind what fun we had... ...the store 'Golden Key', where dad and I get our colorful sea marbles with raisin, rolled in the mouth while watching the cartoon in wee movie theater 'Malyutka' ('Baby')... ...the friendly dwarves, occupying all positions, surrounded flowerbed, where was and my observation point... ...hiding under the desk from piano lessons, writing frustration words on the wood, missed outside play - practicing scales - loving music much later... ...experimenting with paper: tearing for smaller pieces, throwing from fifth floor and breathless in delight while seeing them fluttering in the sun hanging in an air in slow motion flight... my childhood smiles at me offended, why should I let go the past, why I can't just to tie these fragments of creativity from past to present, and make them the beginning of new ideas in future? friendly dwarves're nodding in agreement

Image credit: nationalgeographic.com

Summertime blues

		Shall we talk through seashell, filled with sea distant squall, playful waves' a sigh, mixed with two souls excite... salty air caress loosed wings of my dress, gently tickle my nose, it throbs with desire to absorb smell of sea weed, cast ashore near my feet, sunken in the send... sunny weekend wind sassy way to launch with comb summertime blues at the bay, digging up clues, making the beach as my home...

Sombrero

Image credit: stores.pawsonpalmbeach.com

Magician's song. The spell

My translation to the "Magician's song" from the movie "Ordinary miracle" (1978),
by producer M.Zaharov based on the Eugene Schwartz's play. Music - G.Gladkov,
lyrics - U. Kim, singer - L.Serebrennikov

		It is absurd, ridiculous, foolish, crazy, magical. Neither the sense nor the good, not in the way, completely out of place. There comes a day, there comes the hour, a time in hostage, locked in tower, and the connection breaks. Granite is boiling, burning ice, and getting strength a lightweight fuzz,- what kind of nuisance. And Trin-Trava is blooming high, enlightened owl sends insight, and even fragile thin thread unable to be cut by the steel blade the steel blade. It is absurd, ridiculous, foolish, crazy, magical. Neither the sense nor the good, not in the way, completely out of place. There comes a term, along with it a chills and fear, and a secret heat, delight and power, the pain and laughter, the shadow and the light - in same campfire out of sight, - what kind of nuisance. From the mirage surreal line from an extravagance of mine - figure impression. The color, sound it'll find, and flesh and passion and flesh and passion. It is absurd, ridiculous, foolish, crazy, magical. Neither the sense nor the good, not in the way, completely out of place.

Correction

		What's really correct? Sacred light enters crack... diamond sea's dreamy scent... my Ukrainian accent... fancy restaurant in the castle huge 3 levels, and mussels - the dish of the day, a wine, received your invite... retrospective review photos:old and some new in amusement my nieces calmed down for while... the ghost of my father appeared in a style the family reunion happy motive... if I could make a shift... I'd switched story tail to life major scale mi fa mi re# mi la...

Swirl

Swirling

in tornado

of your love

Choosing colors,

shades are

not enough

Looking for charades

for you

 decode

Tricky riddles -

trap in puzzle

mode

Cosmic dust

arranged

arrive to you

All dimensions

in conjunction

Q

To escape

some boredom

routine -

In the parking lot

awaiting

time machine

the clouds

the traffic time

couples

gray

                          Today on highway

I drove into

                                          gray 

David

saving

flower-ware

First date

             
                based on the poem by Russian poet Igor Kobzev (1924-1986)

		First date at the conservatory. A big, like Africa, a grand piano. Beethoven's ecstatic sorrow and Brahm's tart verzagen`. Then purple twilight crude asphalt in glow like surface of the river, on the black lacquer fashion purse - reflecting lights and spooky shiver... - Do you remember, in the poems by Tyutchev? - And what Block said about dance?.. - We walk, each other slightly torture by famous quota's rhyming stanza. We both dressed up, in the rustling hard cloaks; and all our words are fancy art, Picasso, music - noisy debates parade of how we're damn smart. And we most needed looseness, to feel bit tender and at ease, the 'foolishness' instead of wisdom, and specially - taking risk! So do not guess by secret signs, but shout, without hesitation: "Don't hear, look into my eyes!" The rest - the theme with variations. But we're so honest, fragile, smart... and then like in Chekhov's drama - where sudden sound of a broken heart... and in descending order gamma... And here we go! End of story! And there's no help from wise mind as if there's no conservatory, and longing only phone's sign... So suffer from eternal solitude Petrarch alike, throughout the life excessively high, like Bach's prelude, sometimes unhappy novel love. But anyway, although unhappy, it's where our memory's the cove, unique and beautiful, the most of the poems devoted to First Love.

` verzagen despondency
Image credit: tonyaplank.com

Drum overture

		...rain again teaches me how to drum... insane?.. pouring thru the pipes in groove. To untangle thread, to improve should I learn how to interpret what the spirits say, the shamans covey thru the drum - human practice to relate to all the nature - pum - pum, took - an - dru... going thru my veins thought it's not in vein waterfall of vibes, echoing if I don't mind, mixing with the singing birds symphony of reveries and stars burst, overture to new lives, departing in tomorrow, sending boarding pass...

Many faces of moon

in the blue sea

of heaven

moon boat

a piece of healing butter

softening rough skin

of the sky

tantalizing gold bullion

the shoe,

lost by sky princess

a million years ago

observes all

unblinking eye

of creator

moody moon

obscure

inexplicable

mysterious

alluring



a share

the tears of joy

in hostages

             flowered the chest

of Earth

         shared love

'In trouble'

		To be satisfied I need only moon in my sign. Otherwise I will be pulled all over the places, because what I'm looking for has multiple faces. In search for unique idea my irrational fascination might lands me in trouble with higher vibration. With this being said spend time contemplating I'm playful, not sad, - for right moment waiting

Love force

...particles of love if divided by someone's will

would be reflect the body parts or the soul?

		What creative mind imagines what illusion would be born in the shadow of mystical garden woven in ancient vines with butterflies-elves visiting the flowers for ambrosia juices to fulfill the thirst to keep memories of welcoming doors and places invisible dissolved in air scents hurrying up along the veins with admirable commitment carrying precious pearls deepened in heavenly waterfall, swirling into cells with victorious smile climbing up to hill, resonating with stream of desires and hopes, reaching the goddess - a heart, warming up and down, and finally turning in sparkling firework inside of the top of creation, the head! Relaxing, renewing, rejuvenating, transforming into new cycle, - Love force!

Lel's song

Animated film "Snow Maiden" based on the play by Alexander Ostrovsky to the music of Rimsky-Korsakov, processed by L.Shvarts. 
The Snow Maiden - the daughter of Father Frost and Beauty Spring . Her icy heart has never was in charge of simple human pleasures, never knew love before she met Lel. His love and warmth gave the girl  the wealth of the world, melted the heart of cold beauty.
Below is my translation of The third song of Lel from the opera "Snow Maiden"

Cloud with thunder were conspiring: 'You rattle, thunder, and I'll pour the rain, sparkle the ground with spring rain, that's how flowers will rejoice, the girls come out to pick berries, followed their fellows, boyfriends' Lehl, my Lehl, my Lely, Lely, Lely, Lel. In a grove young ladies all scattered apart, who - in the bushes, and who're for firs. They took berries, halloo to one another, one girl suddenly is disappeared... All girls're crying: 'Has the girl been  eaten by a wolf?' Lehl, my Lehl, my Lely, Lely, Lely, Lel. On their way girls met the stranger, strange old stranger, very strange old man: 'Girls, are you stupid, are you crazy at all? What kind of profits're your halloo to  one another? What a joy to her to respond? You would fumbled in the bushes...' Lehl, my Lehl, my Lely, Lely, Lely, Lel.