Dawn dreams

		I bath myself in soft light of dawn dreams, my song's whistling by first early bird, my thought's weaving in wind streams, reaching the longtime desired seaboard, alerts the friends seagulls, fed with wheat bread, reconciles with speed the snails, touches vibrant waves, playing mermaids, surfing in lurex of butterfly sails... The rapid dawn dreams, reflected in dew, the little big world - so fragile and new; short-lived momentum- the miracle dawn, it melts away soon - I follow...gone...

Image credit: sight-touch.com

Gentle souls

		Have you been touched by quiet gentle souls, walking around throughout the day, seemingly knowing what's their role, carrying the light for who've gone astray? They have been clearing all blurry spots, bringing the purity, fixing the fates, pour healing oil of their hearts to those who trust and open the gates. These gentle souls don't compromise the values, they're real, avoiding ambitions, act with humility, modest and wise, often're in shade, missed a recognition. Manage with tolerance the hatred and cruelty, looking for better and brighter way, telling the story of neighbor, or family, when being asked: How was your day?

Hands healing

		My client: subtle energy, the resignation to her fate, the kindness shows through, the willingness to be wherever people need you, the will to say 'It's rude' to powerful staff person for using male force, showing what to do. Such honorary traits in the conjunction with arthritic hands - the palm lines worn exhausted, lifelong work with water, It's hard to bend the fingers, hold the pen or spoon, - the pay for the kind deeds, is it fair? what lesson has been learned in here? We know that emotions relate to pain, syndromes and conditions. We're holding often and too tightly to money or relationships. So I've prepared images of healthy hands with color aura around to look, to visualize for the intent, and affirmation of my client with words: 'My hands get better every day in every way: each muscle, cell and skin. I'm blessed and healed, I'm loved and free to choose to let past go and to win!'

Image credit: mylot.com

Hot air

		The poems as wild grass - they never ask about proper time to grow, they come at dawn or in dusk, or in midday for show. They're dropping down from the void, distract the schedule, the routine, don't even try to run, avoid - all meetings are ruined. They're hanging on the door as chimes and teasing from behind, there's no escape from crazy rhymes and overwhelmed mind... With inspirational delight I rise aloft to thermostat, and see desired point line has crawled to 'very hot'...

the weapon

summer delight

Abundant Blessings

Perpetuum mobile

Does the Sun really rise in the east or

does it just appear that way?

~ Robin Austin, astrologer

		So if I walk in one direction for more than 1 year - does it mean I've gained some progress on my path? Or I was just shifting from one foot to another? And background slightly was moving, some invisible hand have changed landscape around, adding the Sun, which in general never really rises... or sliding painting with rain... where I was walking by on my path... Like the squirrel in a cage goes round and round... Like carousel horseman, departed in unknown; Like the girl in the silver dress and air cloak, with long arms flapping like birds, jumps up on the large blue ball, trying to run, but actually keep staying on it... Like Alissa, fallen into rabbit's hole, encountered many adventures, but then on one dreamy morning waking up in her bed... Strive to satisfy the need for movement, we're aimed to invisible goal, take favorable transport, we trust that we travel on far distance just to see us remain in one place... Is it possible to escape from yourself? And Universe turns the handle of the hurdy-gurdy, in Perpetuum mobile mode, and wise parrot hands out the happy tickets! Play! You are future winner! Should we play? If you play - you win. Are you in?

Image credit: twylah.com

Mystery of Love

my translation of the poem by Russian poet Nikolay Dorizo (1923-2011)

		My love - a mystery of century, as channels of unknown Martians, as flute belonging to the man, who lived before the ancient Egyptians, As telepathy or the dolphins language, which maybe prettiest than ours, as that emerged from other planets ship on the way to rendezvous with Earth. I am missing you... and this obscure reliance, the devastating pain as the gene, which has no name yet, as new area in science. Well, maybe in a distant 30th centrury in Human Blood Solution Center not the lyricist, but a bearded physicist will open the atom of love matter. He will be praised by chroniclers of the time, and rumors'll promise more than freeing... O, Nature, please, preserve from the human at least this mystery of being!

nature cover

		All found the seats  in this nature cover:   the weeds,    the fern,     the little white flower 

Unconditional love

distant moon

no sin

		there's no sin   to be bored for while     in such lonely place,       where shadow and light           share delight of possession...

the dream

uniqueness

the secret

Grape seed

my translation of the song by Russian/Georgian bard Bulat Okudzhava (1924-1997), performed by Georgian singer Vahtang Kikabidze

		I'll bury grape seed in warm soil, and kiss the vine, and pull a ripe grape, and convene the friends, tune my heart to love, otherwise why live on this eternal earth? Gather, my friends, on the feast, tell me straight in the eyes: who am I in your view? King of heaven will send me the pardon for all of my sins, otherwise why live on this eternal earth? In the dark red my dali* will sing for me, in the black and white I'll bow to her. And be listening, and I'll die of love and sorrow, otherwise why live on this eternal earth? And when veil of sunset grows goldish, let again and again blue buffalo, white eagle and golden trout in front of me float... otherwise why live on this eternal earth?

dali* - Goddess of the hunt in the Georgian folklore

My Love - hot air balloon

my translation of the song by Russian music group "White Eagle",

the plot is taken from Pablo Picasso's "Girl on the ball" (1905)

		With you only I could understand, what does it mean to be loved, leafing through love like a notebook, and to live by that hope. Dawn outside of my window I'll meet with you. My house filled with Love, and there's nothing better. My Love - hot air balloon, it has the color of your blue eyes. My Love - hot air balloon, one for me and you, one for me and you. I think this world looks like a big flower. It has kept by Lord - Holy petal of Love. Dawn outside of my window I'll meet with you. My house filled with Love, and there's nothing better.

Image credit: http://ru.wikipedia.org

Self-love

		Reading the book throughout 'Art of self-love', picking these kind of books - love it! Temple of body, hidden blue light, visible through; calmed down wisdom of life, grabbed for the throat - say truth! I'll be completed, return the debt, when pass the test for 'lice', serve the Universe in the way my purpose assigned - wise. The rest, insignificant, negative deeds, let them go, tear with roots to eliminate, throw in the fire, wipe out, don't wait,- new memory, filled with true self-love create.

Laughing Room

This is my translation of the song "Laughing Room". The music by Teodor Efimov, lyrics by David Usmanov, written in 1987.

		Have you ever been in a laughing room? Have you ever been in a laughing room? That's where the fun, That's where the fun, Have you ever been in a laughing room? Chorus: There little seems big, There plump seems thin, There the heads of all - as at giants, And hands - as at the best musicians. There are curved mirrors as saucers, And everyone laughs, And everyone laughs, And everyone laughs. Have you ever talked with yourself there? Have you ever talked with yourself there? Laughing with tears, Laughing with tears, Have you ever talked with yourself there? Chorus. What if take a glimpse into yourself as in laughing room? What if take a glimpse into yourself as in laughing room? What the obstacle, What the obstacle, If each of us - like a laughing room. Chorus.

Ambitions

a tube of red paint

		Squeezed from a tube of paint the red contours bodies, horizontal silhouettes, over and over again, moaning as if spilled, filling the space, stratifying layer by layer, lying down with a sigh of frustration, uttering the last farewell, complaining about the fluidity of life... Soon appearing crow shies from the abundance of color and brightness.

stuffed ginger bread man

		Energy bubbles whispering powerfully in my head, new components are boiling, added to my composition. Had once absorbed the direction, advice and just the 'right moves', this time I accept only myself, what I am made of, not what I know or heard. My new, renewed layers're stacked roughly inside, filling me new, no place for extra someone's thought and stuff. Stuffed toy might be given whatever shape you want: 'Head of the class' or 'Today ice cream', but I am not any of them. 

the fence

lumber party

my shadow

the night of rain

		And almost as in the dream in only one night so many eyes have opened, so many witnesses're appeared the night of rain

this little world

		Don't miss to see this little world, where the groundwater's running takes beginning rain mix, adding mini trees for compilation