Lyudmila Purgina (Russian Federation)

by Vladimir Kostrov

Don't touch there a genre,
Which is pouring a heat.
The intellect's logs in a blaze of the singing.
Believe that and test that a Poetry's a sphere,
And when you go right, then the left will be a finish.
In it clear is vague, and wise seems to be fool,
In it feeling, sense are like a horse and a girth,
Believe that and test that a Poetry's a cube
Of that room, where you were loving sencerely both.
I'll built, I'll create you a simple great idol,
A tear on cheek will be then revelation.
The Poetry is angle - that I can underscore -
Where we rarely, but kneel down in praying.

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In russian and translated in bulgarian
by Krasimir Georgiev:
http: //www.stihi.ru/2013/02/13/28