Записки Безымянного [поэзия] - Прохор Николаевич Озорнин читать книгу онлайн полностью

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It will be the greatest and fiercest beast

For ones lost in fog, for those lost in mist.

And one day your eyes you will sacrifice

To obey his orders in search of a prize,

You will start to live in dreams of your size

Once your foul Pride will be on the rise.

Stop running for now, and face him alone -

And face him in battle, face him being prone,

Face him being poor, face him being rich,

And have once the courage to lay him in siege!

You cannot escape, you may only hide,

But this cannot help - for he is inside.

Once being awoken it will bite and tear,

And what is the worst - he sleeps just so near…

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Can you hear my voice? I shall speak of your choice,

Of the bonds you've been given, of unreachable heaven,

Of the freedom you've lost to become nameless ghost,

Of the life you do live, helping prison to thrive.

Can you hear me now? You are one in a row,

Perfect soldier in all but to find own goal,

But to follow your mind which is gone with a wind,

And to find own path, being "I" and not "Us",

Being one in a crowd, stepping your own road

And ignoring comment, that thus safety does end.

One, who wants to break free, one, who wants to be man,

Needs willpower to see - he's a slave now and then,

Moving predefined ways, speaking his usual "nays",

Watching all-common faces, racing other ones’ races.

Never will slavery end, never will prison break

Till you find inner land - and the willpower you seek.

Will you hear me now, being one in a row?

It's your mind who'll break free - and one day that you'll see.

Огненный Меч

I have been given flaming blade

To pierce night and fight with shade,

And it is glowing with that fire

The source of which is my desire.

It has seen war, it knows of peace,

It chopped heads, it burned grease,

And it executed swift death,

For some it's curse, for others bless.

It has severed diseased limbs,

It has exposed others’ sins,

It was a torch for ones in dark,

Cut out exit to those stuck.

It settled disputes in the world,

It used to touch the right heart's chord,

Its clang alone can make heart brave,

And it is lost for those who rave.

It is engulfed in the flame

And thus can make its wielder lame,

It brings uncommon sort of fame

Which clears heart and grants no shame.

Yes, I can feel its heat in hands ...

This blade has traveled many lands

And many battles it has seen,

Those armed with it destined to win.

It's a reflection of a Word,

Which always touches rightist chord

And purifies its victim's heart ...

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