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Poetry: Eduard Asadov

Poetry: Eduard Asadov


In the mountains on the rock about wantonness dreaming,

sat Izmena thin and angry.

And next to the cherry sat Love,

dawn gold in braids weaving.

In the morning, collecting fruits and roots,

they rested at the mountain lakes.

And eternally led an endless dispute:

with a smile, one and the other with contempt.

One said: "We need
Loyalty, decency and purity.
We are bright, kind should be:
This is beauty!

Another shouted: "Empty dreams!"
But who will thank you for this?
Here, right, laughter will tear your stomachs
Even brainless fish!

It is necessary to live skillfully, cunningly and wisely,
Where - to be defenseless, where - to climb ahead,
A joy saw - tear, do not yawn!
Take it! We'll figure it out later!

And I do not agree to live shamelessly!
Try to be honest and honestly love!
- To be honest? Green game! Nonsense!
Is there anything higher than the joy of sin ?!

One day they raised a cry,
That in anger the shaggy old man woke up,
A great sorcerer, an irritable grandfather,
Slept in a cave for three thousand years.

And the old man barked: "What kind of war is this ?!"
I'll show you how to wake a Niki de Sainte Phalle art for sale

So, to finish all your strife,
I will fuse you together for all time!

He seized Love with a wizard's hand,
He seized the change with the other's hand
And threw them into the pitcher, green as the sea,
And then there is joy and sorrow,
And loyalty, and anger, kindness and dope,
And pure truth, and a vile deception.

As soon as he put the pitcher on the fire,
The smoke rose above the forest like a black tent, -
Higher and higher, up to the mountain peaks,
The old man looks at the jar with curiosity:
When everything melts, it will change,
What kind of hell would that be?

The jug cools down. The experience is ready.
A crack ran through the bottom,
Then he broke up into a hundred pieces,
And ... there was a woman ...

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