Thursday, May 31, 2012

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.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012


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
with Light
to heal,
to give life
to me new,
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
I am loved,
you here
for me
to support,
to guide
on Earth -
'just Listen
it's your turn
to honor the life,
the people
who strive
to spread
the Love
on the Earth'.

Image credit:

Monday, May 21, 2012

We come from a childhood

A sudden wind peeped through,
walked in circles,
drew an invisible line
between us,
played the fool,

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:

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Summertime blues

Shall we talk
through seashell,
filled with sea
distant squall,
playful waves'
a sigh,
mixed with
two souls excite...

salty air
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...

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Friday, May 18, 2012

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.

Thursday, May 17, 2012


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...

Wednesday, May 16, 2012


in tornado
of your love

Choosing colors,
shades are
not enough

Looking for charades
for you

Tricky riddles -
trap in puzzle

Cosmic dust
arrive to you

All dimensions
in conjunction

To escape
some boredom
routine -

In the parking lot
time machine

Saturday, May 12, 2012


                          Today on highway

I drove into

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

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:

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Drum overture

...rain again
teaches me
how to drum...
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,
if I don't mind,
mixing with
the singing birds
of reveries
and stars burst,
overture to new lives,
departing in tomorrow,
sending boarding pass...

Saturday, May 5, 2012

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

Friday, May 4, 2012

a share

the tears of joy
in hostages
             flowered the chest
of Earth
         shared love

Thursday, May 3, 2012

'In trouble'

To be satisfied
I need only moon
in my sign.
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

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

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
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,
transforming into new cycle, -
Love force!

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

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.