Андрей АКСЕНОВ | Поэзия


People infected with war —
Zombies of raving ideas!
God cannot be triple fold;
He will not tolerate these

People whose mental discord
Carries the overall dark,
People whose souls fall apart.
Ashes can’t sit behind bars…

They won’t fly, they won’t sit
Looking at beautiful scenes…
Armies will slowly grow thin
Tempered like armor of steel.


«We’d better stay on the Earth.
Flying to space is unwise…»
Uttered the wisest Eleus.
«Why is this?» asked the Scribe.

«Every terrestrial folk ¬—
The Russians, the Arabs, the Jews…
Heard the gates squeak to unbolt;
But to climbing the stairs they refused.

Found on the Earth are the keys
Opening paradise bliss.
Never the Sun hides its rays;
Mars leaves the Kremlin in peace.”


Now Russia is birch trees
Green meadows and hurst,
Siberian frost chills,
The Salient of Kursk,

The vast tundra scenery,
The wildest of winds,
The glory of Peter —
The wisest of kings.

Lake Baikal’s profound,
Uralian mines,
Yakutia’s diamonds,
Great Tatar «KAMAZ».

Crimea’s Sevastopol —
The Russian stronghold.
Our missile pride Topol
Goes down Moscow’s roads…

In Pskov’s princess Olga,
In Ryazan Sergei!
Now Russia’s not only
The great hockey fame.

About the author:

Andrei Aksenov, poet. Born 07.06.1975 in Murmansk, USSR.

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