What a portrait, my friend,
Almost alive
And the speaker:
& quot;Stop!
& nbsp;Pray, comrade in no hurry!"
What a soulful look!
Who took pictures like that! — Not nine by twelve!
Thoughtful, clear and at the same time happy,
Boyish and like a hundred and twenty years old.
One face full-face, and immediately bzik:
Draw your figure.
But I can't... And a draft
Flies, all crumpled up, somewhere in an urn.
And I say to myself: "you Can't!"
After all, he-alive, still hear.
And moistened with tenderness eyes,
Like dews, and I smell, thank God, breathes.
January 2, 2020
00: 05 GMT