Стихи моим любимым

To my son Alexander
India is nice in the morning,
Аt noon, and at night.
Because this land is so bright,
Because this land is full of yearning.

Because it’s yours and ours too,
Because we are friends, and that’ll do

So flourish for ages the land of beauty,
The land of the sun and the sky.
And may there be always your dearest duty
To live for your darling and die.

India is nice in the morning,
Аt noon and at night.
Be always bright, be always yearning,
Take our love, it’s very right.

December, 1972

Старик, Индия. 2018 г. Бумага, тушь, перо

My Motherland

On the earth, there are so many countries,
But only one like a wise enchanteress
Took my heart in her kind hands,
And I forgot the other lands.

And now she is mine forever,
And now she is mine for life.
I’ve seen many countries,
But like mine have never.
I am hers forever,
She is mine for life.

When we are together

When we are together at our forums,
Our hearts are beating in the very same tunes.
Women of India, and women of Soviets
Do their best for the happiest news.

Sometime they are singing,
Sometimes they are talking,
Sometimes we are dancing at our noon’s.
Women of India, and women of Soviets
Do their best to escape their untunes.

We are together for dreaming and thinking
We are together for the best, if you please.
Women of India, and women of Soviets
Do their best for friendship and peace.

When we are together at our forums
It seems we are having the magical wings.
Women of India, and women of Soviets
Flourish for ages like flowers and streams.

Women of India

Women of India are dark as a night.
Women of India are bright as a light.
Women of India are the countries treasure.
You will never find in their charm measure.

When they are singing
It’s the greatest pleasure.
When they are dancing,
It’s a real leisure.

If sing with them
You have a chance,
You fall in love at once.

Индийская женщина. 2018 г. Бумага, тушь, перо

Children

They are slender
Sometimes nice,
Sometime very naughty,
Sometimes hotly,
But always tender.

Try to guess.
It is children’s gender, yes!
They are children real, with noise.

My first market

I am at the market, such a colorful picture.
So many things, I am too lost.
I see, in my head there is nothing, but mixture.
What shall I do? I am crying my SOS!

And the people are here: “What’s the matter?”
Soon half the market is just in my sick.
I am happily smiling standing near.
My market is over, I go home back.

At early dawn