Saturday, June 30, 2012

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

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:

Friday, June 29, 2012

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?

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

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
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:

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

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'...

Friday, June 22, 2012

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:

Thursday, June 21, 2012

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

As telepathy or the dolphins language,
which maybe prettiest than ours,
as that emerged from other planets
ship on the way to rendezvous with

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!

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

nature cover

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

Sunday, June 17, 2012

no sin

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

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

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

Sunday, June 10, 2012

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.

Friday, June 8, 2012


Reading the book
'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 -

The rest, insignificant,
negative deeds,
let them go,
tear with roots
to eliminate,
in the fire,
wipe out,
don't wait,-
new memory,
filled with true self-love

Thursday, June 7, 2012

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?

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?

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.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012


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.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

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

Friday, June 1, 2012

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