Людям Настоящего [поэзия]

Is there is one to answer call ?
The question made, the silence fall ...
They have embraced their dreams -
To make them fight there are no means.

I know, I know - they are long gone,
When they are killed - the world shall moan,
When they are dead, the world will cry ...
Come forth, assassins, make your try !

For I do know - the time is right
For one ferocious, one last fight ...
The knights are born to no avail,
And thus villains shall prevail.


The time will pass, the world will shift,
And virtue will once show a rift,
For there is thing that's truly sad ...
There are no knights - they all are dead.

Последний вопрос

When time will come for you to die
Will you behave like shocked guy?
Or will prefer to keep your silence?
Or rush and cry with hate in violence?

And how you'll rate your used life -
Two? Three? Four? Five?
And who will be with your that time?
And what was your life's biggest crime?

And what the question you will ask
Before it is your final dusk?
And will you face without fear
Her silent gaze, which would be near?

And what will be your final words,
Are they melodious chords?
Or will they sound just like this :
'Oh death, hold on ! I beg you, please !'?


There is much time now to decide
Before it is your final night,
Until it is your final dusk
How will you answer, being asked.

For judging way of how you died
One understands of how you lived,
It may be most important thought …
And all the other matters not.

Любовь и ненависть судьбу твою творят

Love and hate will brew your fate,
Open divine, hellish gate,
Make or crush your human being,
Burn your eyes or give new seeing.


You was once a man of pride
Who was many times but right,
Something like enlightened man
With a wisdom in your pen.

Of the love you tried to say,
Helping strangers on your way,
Writing poems at your leisure,
Living life with all its pleasure...

All until you start to hate
Other humans on earth plate,
Who were full of sins and evils,
Who did look like just as devils.

Was you right to feel as such,
In disgust escaping touch,
Turning back in thought and action,
Cursing their breed and faction?

They, perhaps, were distant ones,
Though they too were divine sons,
Though they too were God's creation,
Though they too were population.