Рассуждение о таланте.Навеяно сатирическим произведением В. Маяковского "Прозаседавшиеся".
Мне кто-то говорит, что я чудеснейший фикрайтер,
Другой мне всё твердит, что я талантливый дизайнер.
А кто-то говорит, что я могу стихи писать.
Да кто-то добавляет: "... и красиво рисовать."

Но повстречавши как-то профессора всего,
Я поменяла мнение с простого на его.
Профессор критикует, ругает и глядит,
Ногтями по столешнице ритмично он стучит.

И тут мне открывается, что бездарь полный я,
Что говорят "красиво", кто не умеет так.
Но есть же люди лучшие, что Пабло Пикассо,
Что Шишкин, Пушкин, Лермонтов, да и Жан Жак Руссо.

Бывает, что мы бездарям хвалы все изливаем,
Пытаясь не обидеть их начало, развлекаем;
Бывает, мы способных грубой критикой ломаем
И, таланты убивая, этого не замечаем...

fleur, действительно очень приятно, что зацепило.

Самой очень нравится.

Благодарю =)

The Revenge
(english version)

How sweet it word sounds and strange,
Running like blood through the veins.
How I like to hear it so loud. "Revenge".
It is time for my vindictive lines.

A gentle voice of sweet revenge
Warms my heart, makes tremble.
It makes to kill in my young age.
And that compel me to be able.

I dream to take revenge to you
For that you destroyed my soul.
I don't promise to kill you soon,
Because I always loved your role.

And suddenly I quickly understand,
Your feelings appear for me so.
And for myself I opened to the end,
That the revenge have no sense more.

Muse

I don't think about love of us.
I don't live from your end, my friend.
I'm returning in my thoughts to the past
To see my muse, although it's misspend.

When I was drawing your portrait,
I kissed your the bloody lips.
I did not think fit to do it.
All to me was as mind's eclipse.

When you took my love one day
And when you kissed me,
On the next day I could you say
That I would live, not be.

When I was writing the poems,
You were sitting on armrest.
And I gave to you many gems,
With which you were the best

When you were smoking on my knees,
I was looking at chill in your eyes,
I was listening blarney from your lips,
I was inhaling smoke of your sigars.

All long nights I was taking you -
And you were raping my soul too.
I knew that you were unfaithful muse,
But I searched acquit for your choose.

I could not get out wrong love.
I would like fly away as a dove.
And farther I started to go mad,
To the end I lost all what I had.

I watched your f*cks with other men,
I kept myself in the hands over and over again.
I was taking photos your f*ck with word 'amen'.
You were my god, you were the main.

I was jealous, I was crying alone,
I was breaking all your portraits...
Next time I was starting to go on,
Perhaps I knew that it was no exits.

One day you were soundly sleeping.
I came to you with the knife.
I raised it above... you were screaming...
It was in the past, in the night.

You were the one and only, my muse.
I was poisoned by you, my friend.
I was tired of your ruse... I lose...
I loved you until the very end.

Epilogue

And now I look in the wineglass.
And now I remember your eyes.
And now I am very crass.
And now I think about dies...