ИМЯ ИМ ЛЕГИОН Поэты разных поколений и разной...

NAME IM LEGION

Poets of different generations
and of different strength ...
Here - someone flashed for a moment,
the other is beautiful
remained in memory and in books.
I am not talking about that!
They wander in their chains.
Full of poets
in a huge city - like bees,
sat in honeycombs.
They'll say cool about someone,
other - in blogs
often praise, pull the lines,
tear for quotes,
it happens that he writes drunk,
sometimes - obscenities,
it happens - that a poet, like a chip,
sitting in an apartment
and his gaze is sick and well-aimed -
like a bullet in a dash
flies - over the houses, towards
babbling birds ...
The poet - who is not marked,
not - on the pages,
in the shadows, in the closet of bitter thoughts,
in the family - stuck,
withered like a flower - drinking
lost everything!
Such a portrait of a poet vryatli
to taste.
They are like weeds in the garden
poets are people!
Scattered wherever possible
and the city groans!
It's hard to keep poets all
and not worth it.
They love to get together so much
to your parties,
but these are not poets, brothers,
so - small things!
And the real ones - in short -
those from God,
they are fewer points
and there are few of them.
They are lost - in the thick
in that legion ...
You will not find them - among the leaders,
because genius is modest ...

May 3, dacha (Volodarka)