ArtOfWar. Творчество ветеранов последних войн. Сайт имени Владимира Григорьева

Karpenko Alexander
Russian winter in the hospital

[Регистрация] [Найти] [Обсуждения] [Новинки] [English] [Помощь] [Построения]
 Ваша оценка:
  • Аннотация:
    Vita Nuova: When people don't understand you,No need to complain about it. Just wait for a while,Work for your soul And be happy,`cause Working for yourself You work for people. And once somebody will notice Your underground work end exclaim:"Look you guys,who is here!"That will be your rebirth. Alexander Karpenko.





















Russian Winter In The Hospital        Alexander KARPENKO

I feel both joy and sorrow,
`Cause winter,winter comes.
See,massive snow is falling
And burying hills and farms.

Snowstorm is getting louder.
Wind covers our eyes
With instant snowy powder,
If blindness can be wise.

To wallow - or to follow,
Still hoping to survive?
I feel both joy and sorrow -
As if it were the life.



     Speak With Me,Grass!

I wish you spoke with me,my grass.
I wonder where I get the forces -
I just remember all the losses,
I can't forget my painful past.

Tell me what hours did you spend
And what is your supreme desire -
You see,I also was in fire,
And I,like you,completely burned!

I also paid an enormous price:
They thought,we perished - only ashes -
But from the war machine that smashes,
Just like a phoenix,did we rise.

Congratulate the days which pass.
Expect both holidays and weekdays.
Don`t treat me with a gloomy strictness.
I wish,you spoke with me,my grass! 



Dance Macabre /uptempo version/

disrespect of native country
consuming our wounded souls
with black silence
sinking into oblivion
resembled me devil's jeering
at my blood brothers
carrying the burden of darkness
however having gone through fire
you expect water as the next test
fuck this glorious russian custom
canonizing martyrs posthumously
a phantom of an unseen sponcor
swayed in the air
and just here it dawned upon me
that he who organized this bloody farce
dominates up to the present
days of eclipse
were continued
by the white nights of poems
in which survival tactics
hesitated twixt cry and silence
twixt despair and cry  

  
        An Interrupted Requiem

We are loosing nice people through tears,
But it happens - as soon as they leave -
We return to absorbing affairs
And divert ourselves from the grief.

We return our pride,our gladness,
Once again we are sceptic and smart -
Only bitterness,post-Afghan sadness
Never hurries to leave our heart.

It is hard to embody those perished,
To return them all lights of the day,
And we stand,caps away,grim and silent,
Lucky guys who survived on this way.

I am happy to feel I am breathing.
Price for knowledge was terribly high.
Now my life must be truly uneasy -
I am only expected to die.



About The Guy Who Knew Nothing

Once people were amazed
That he who knew nothing
Was a poet.
Nothing in perticular:
Knowing everything
It's hard to be a poet.

Another time,people were amazed
That the guy who knew nothing
Was a composer.
Nothing in particular:
Knowing everything
It's hard to be a composer.

Then
People were amazed
Why that guy who knew nothing
Wasn't a prophet.
Nothing in particular:
Knowing nothing,
It's hard to be a prophet.



        My Love's Names

If sometimes I call you my treasure,
Don't believe me.
Say that treasures are buried in the earth.

If sometimes I call you my pearl,
Don't believe me.
Say that pearls are found on the seabed.

If sometimes I call you my star,
Don't believe me.
Say that stars are thrown up to the sky.

But when I call you by your first name,
Still unknown to you,believe me,my dear.
And take my love to your heart
As a treasure,as a pearl,as your own star.



   A Melancholy Song

I still remember that night:
hungry stars,
sticking round hunk of the Moon,
a fright of your night dress
envelopping the snow-white body of my goddess,
petalous darkness of your eyes.
We walked along desert street,
and suddenly I saw
a flame-coloured rider
dropping unexpectadly a silver horse-shoe.
Now everything is in the past.
Petalous darkness of your eyes
has fallen down
under the north wind's blow.
Boy's catapult of a naughty Cupid
destroyed evening lamps in the street.
And only anonymous stars
sing for themselves
a kind of long long ago
forgotten choral. 



         Victory Day

It was an unforgettable May Day.
I walked along the crowded street.
Night was coming soon. Fresh ozone
Pleasantly burned my cheeks.
Hand in hand with me walked Victory.
I was so excited
She decided to share her birthday with me.
Next morning I met my friends.
"Hey guy,we saw you yesterday,
Who was that lady together with you?"
They asked.
"She was my mother," I smiled.
"Oh,you've got a very young mother."
They were surprized. "Is she really?"
"She was just 17 when I was born,"
I explained. And they believed me.



            Time Machine

Don't you hear,friend,how wind is blowing,
Rumble from the sky getting full.
Yes,I know,the time machine,so awful,
An airplane from Moscow to Kabul.

Time was tired,making lots of damage
To the people,always grim and sad.
Taking off this century,I managed
In the fourteenth century to land.

Time,you aren't in time,that's the pity,
Brother against brother,fight and run,
See the woman in the ancient city,
Walking with an automatic gun.

She is not to blame,I know for sure,
But my trembling heart opened wide:
I imagined her when time was cured,
Holding in her armes a child.



          Flying Leaves

Haven't seen you for ages,my mother,
In my heart keep your letters, so frank.
Leaves fall from the heavens like manna
Slowly,slowly drift down on the tank.

Wind is grumbling and getting severe,
I forgot happy times I was warm.
Can you see any tree growing here?
Leaves, just answer me,where are you from?

Eyes are following leaves softly falling,
All the time I was trying to guess:
You have probably come from my homeland,
You flew over to warm me,my friends!

Night is imminent. Mother,I miss you.
Maybe - see you tonight in my dream.
Only bullets still seem to be whistling
In the silence,both nervous and keen.



          SEASONS

Once I woke up in the morning
And felt I was a grown-up already.
Choose a fiancee for yourself -
Trees whispered me in a silence.
I thought for a while and chose a spring,
Because it was my first love.
Three months passed,
And spring went to another,
Quite a young lover.
Then I choose a hot summer for myself -
to settle the proud Sun in my heart,
But in three months
I remain alone again.
Then I chose an autumn for myself.
I wasn't rich at that time,
And deceptive gold of her hair charmed me.
Fortunately,it wasn't for ever.
When winter appaired at my horizon
I met her with curiosity:
Is my blood ardent enough
To melt her chilly heart?
I won the game,
But my usual loneliness
Followed the victory.
"Why haven't you chosen all the four?"-
My Fate asked.
"I don't know,- I replied,-
Probably, it's hard to receive
Everything you need
At the same time.



        War Veterans

No one is good enough to kill,
And even men with sush a skill,
Returning home to a peaceful age,
Hate nasty war they were engaged:
It wasn't their golden time,
If simple order was a crime.

But why,my friend,explain indeed,
We have this overwhelming need,
As if it were a paradize,
That distant land still calls for us!
And we return in our minds
To where nothing happy we can find.



          We Should Win!

That is all. Truly,wasn't it fatal?
An awkward mine interrupted me breath.
I remember I died in the battle,
Maybe catching a hero's death.

That is all. A clock is absurdly tinkling,
A griffon is circling iu in the sky.
But let's stop. I am realle thinking,
That assures me I am alive!

A life... It is hard to begin just from zero,
Even if you are clever and wise.
But my heart is my definite mirror,
I should follow him,hoping to rise!

A yellow wall is my permanent neighbour,
I lie in bed,sharply suffering a sting.
Hearts are strained in this life,they waver
Like a guitar's rebellious strings.

Don't just guit me,my life! Once the trouble
Ruins all your spiritual ties.
Only souls,our wandering doubles,
Aren't destroyed by the treacherous times. 



        Back To Afghanistan

Grateful life,you are giving me hours
Of my joyful and diligent work.
This is much. But from picking up flowers
I return independantly back -
To where my heart is incredibly rushing,
Where it isn't a film anymore,
Where in my unmistakable Russian
I discovered an accent of war.



           REWARDS

So it happened to me - I was offered
For the doctor's particular rights,
And my combat and merited order
Searched for me many days,many nights.

How I managed to catch you - heart trembled
Being squeezed like a firing jet
Just between decoration's enamel
And enemy's lead in my shoulder blade.

So we pass thfough dangerous highroads,
Trying mostly to live and survive,
And rewards that are flying behind us,
Often do not succeed to arrive.

I remember that terrible moment,
My wounded body stretched on the earth.
Maybe I was already awarded -
I escaped fron a definite death.

I received for the rest of my lifetime
A nice reward - my expereinced soul.
Since that time I am highly inspired
Feeling depth of my passionate role.

You are walking along in the garden,
And my feelings are hopeful and strong.
Why are you,best reward for my heart,
Hiding,seeking me,dear,so long?



    My Destiny

I have a funny lot -
To search my inner borders,
Putting a shabby coat
Over me wounded body.

And,burning paper words
And being so excited,
I fly to other worlds,
As if I were invited.

`Cause life is like a stream,
A sunny dream of flying
And nothing but a whim...
But,maybe close to dying,

I`ll hear first my cry,
Reborn as a creator.
My lot is never fine.
But whose lot can be greater?!



        Philosophical Mask

How I dreamed that my house would open
With a warm and encouriging cry!
Who could ever imagine supposing
My return as an alien guy?
I expected to see human faces,
But the people were terribly far.
Oh,my Russia,enormous and crazy,
How disgraceful your images are!

What I felt was a cold gloomy desert
`Cause my combut just ended in grief.
Trying only to make some effort,
I expected to get relief.
But again as a blast of despair,
A result of the pefmanent race,
A philosophical mask has appeared
On my human and sensitive face.



       War and love

I meet a dawn with you,my dear,
I Afghan,unexpected fight,
And,maybe saving me from fear,
The Sut is "raying" me your heart.

And being near to man-eaters,
In wilderness and burning heat,
Your childish look of Nefertiti
Is what I greately,sharply need.

I look at it when I am arming
In whistling shells and shining Moon,
And I believe that love is coming,
That war is ending very soon.

We hunt for luck,we hope it's near,
But sometimes it's an endless flight.
And you are guiding me,my dear,
You stay with me through all the night.



                SACRED

You are sacred,my love,like a virgin,
Nothing similar ever I knew.
Morning star I often imagine,
Me - the star,catching fire from you.

Being asked of your wonderful features,
I could surely tell a few.
I have only to pray at your picture
To become as sacred as you.

My unearthly,my beautiful creature,
Vivid icon I have never seen.
Not to love you may seem sacrilegious -
A nonbeliever's incredible sin.

I get sick when I rarely see you,
And my star slowly falls from the sky.
You will never belong to me,dear.
You will always,forever be mine.     

 Ваша оценка:

По всем вопросам, связанным с использованием представленных на ArtOfWar материалов, обращайтесь напрямую к авторам произведений или к редактору сайта по email artofwar.ru@mail.ru
(с) ArtOfWar, 1998-2012