Poetry of russian avantgarde

From project of Abstraction Photography

In Russian

Taste of truth

Like a Siberia

The air of spring

In the begining of


I know

The longitude, infinity


The weariness all road

Remain here in the eyes.


The snow 
And cold

The fan is


And will be young

Was a day The iron air. Drowsiness of the grass Breatheing on the wind. I simple know I really can't. So close but Road is eternal In almond branchs Step Earth And sky. And color bitter taste Day was Day live Day begin Of beginings. And blood all dews Dried up Along ago.
I know, what? I don't know nothing. Why lilac Burning and was on fire. Why we were steped On the loam from sand And solt of water We were spent in vain. In vain we were Believing In vain we did't followed And singing of birds Don't hearing In that time. In that time was paradise Today...
On the asphalt's covering of the official Understanding life...
I love dreaming again. The steps don't destroy the mind. November The train But my things along. The cold. Ivening The town of snow Laughter. Weariness It is don't exist That's all don't understand.
The ball's tears about two pounds of grapefruit Or billiard's balls. Or by coal Or by ink And by white snow The steps is spill The steps from And in the emptiness It is So many people.
All flowers will be for me from Steel. All words lost his own meaning. The map.The photographs. The air in this room The table is colourless Take a grape's bone of times. And to be multiply going to be accessory. The world is existent. Some thinks...

heaven sky nude

From project of Architecture Photography


а аЕаЙб‚аИаНаГ@Mail.ru

copyright ©

Используются технологии uCoz