The Night as black Bird’s fly comes …
But Time decreases Mercilessly…
Inspiration comes Unexpectedly…
And Saving and Joy it brings …
The Poetry is as light as Zephyr’s breathing
And gentile as only Lira is ringing...
Sometimes is - terrible as Stone Falling...
And - as Ninth Wave crushing...
The Poetry – is not only Letters Collection…
And not of Different Lines – Gathering…
As it was prompted from Above…
It is sudden as Lightning!
In Mathematics calculation is possible
Only there - up to Trivialities…
But Counts are false in Verse
For the Muse righteous eyes…
When Thoughts are given to us by God –
He always gives all of them at once…
But if you haven’t all of them caught –
That means you have desturbed their Balance…