Recently learned of the Russian poet Vergelis.
He has a very beautiful site.
I want to share his poetry (translated as able) :)
Unfortunately, among the lyrical luminaries
my star is barely visible, and yet
Since most words afford too
begin ... In short, once again I visited
the very edge of the fifteen years
(Tempered me not for happiness),
violating this promise in his youth
not to destroy the illusion, not to return
the place where something is hidden wet forest
and rustled the hedge alive
about the future, full of miracles.
And now, back, expelled from paradise
in the vain hope to breathe in for future use.
Here, too nice. But tell me, please
what's wrong here? What more has changed -
soul of a hero or a corner
where tourists crammed wall
next to where the shadow of a poet
sigh not found an answer
love for the tenth grade one?
He has a very beautiful site.
I want to share his poetry (translated as able) :)
Unfortunately, among the lyrical luminaries
my star is barely visible, and yet
Since most words afford too
begin ... In short, once again I visited
the very edge of the fifteen years
(Tempered me not for happiness),
violating this promise in his youth
not to destroy the illusion, not to return
the place where something is hidden wet forest
and rustled the hedge alive
about the future, full of miracles.
And now, back, expelled from paradise
in the vain hope to breathe in for future use.
Here, too nice. But tell me, please
what's wrong here? What more has changed -
soul of a hero or a corner
where tourists crammed wall
next to where the shadow of a poet
sigh not found an answer
love for the tenth grade one?
