Liza Sud Poems

Today it is your birthday.
I’m sorry – I’m not close
To what you want and show.
My way is sloth and slow.
...

My first wish is – to satisfy you.
As religious – to marry you.
As a woman – to be the mother
Of consequence of what you do.
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You almost swooned with joy
When I came to your place.
There is a constant smile
At your overstrained face.
...

Writing poems in English –
Sometimes disturbs your breath.
If it is not a translation –
It is a small death.
...

Pride - is a 'stick' that even itself can curb.
'I' - is self-managed, but nevertheless is driven.
Publican 'waiting forever, ' the soul by doubt twirl -
'Childish mind games' - before you're entombed forever.
...

And every seven years
  he to the earth descends,
to meet there  with the faithful,
which will not leave, not sell.
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Zhirinovsky is hugging a horse
in beloved steppe somewhere.
so good in red shirt, -
as on museum painting!
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With an interest I’ll pay you back.
Therefore never call me dear.
Or I will call you my beloved
Under October night star!
...

You are wearing a hat, like Blok.
My mom said Blok reminds my father,
Or vice versa. And you’re a poet
And you are of one age with my mother.
...