pozvoni mne, ja hochu ot tebja detej

etot druzok nabit mojimi dredami, tak chto almost voodoo

Your ruler, Jupiter, continues to move through the practical, sensual sign of Taurus until June, when it enters curious, communicative Gemini for an approximately year-long stay.

the night must have tired me, at least weakened me, and the sun, hoisting itself higher and higher in the east, had poisoned me, while i slept.i ought to bulk of the rock between it and me before closing my eyes. i confuse east and west, the poles too, i invert them readily.

 

oh please if they should ask you
tell them you knew a heart like mine
and if they should ask me
i'll tell them i knew a heart like yours

 

 and a heart like mine

father time and mother nature
stuck on an island of drunken horses

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Настроение сейчас - transgalaktika

There's no place to spend our money where we live.
The generous world suggests we live generously
so we lay
under low wide branches
of the oldest tree on the dune,
or in the hay,
where we will stay for so long without moving
that the careful birds finally relax
and make black nests in your black hair
and find ants walking around my unmoving feet
and we will only notice this play of the world
that long moss is growing on us
that that wind has rewritten us
the give and take not stopping ever
for only a moment
and then, having breifly noticed,
let the world roll on, doing this,
through open gates.

' so hard to kiss you when your mouth is always busy with a cigarette'

ja dovoljna svojim postupkom, intuicija vernulasj ko mne, aleluja, vesna

KAK HOROSHO

in the forest even an hour calms the most turbulent spirit,
a day will cure most worries,
and a week with an axe may be recommended to neurasthenics.

feels like i got run over by a car and stayed alive

Death is a message; it talks; the act of dying has it own semantics and it is not unimportant how a man dies, and in which element.

Jan Masaryks life ended in 1948 with a fall into the courtyard of a Prague palace, after he had seen his destiny shattered by the hard shell of History. Three years later the poet Konstantin Biebl, frightened by the face of the world he had helped to bring about, threw himself from a sixth floor onto the pavement of the same city (the city of defenestrations), perishing on the element earth and with his death offering an image of the tragic discord between the air and weight, between dream and awakening.

Jan Hus and Giordano Bruno could not have died by the rope or by the sword; they could have died only at the stake. Their lives thus became the incandescence of a signal light, the beam of a lighthouse, a torch shining far into the space of time. For the body is ephemeral and thought is eternal and the flicker of fire is the image of thought. Jan Palach, who twenty years after Jaromil's death drenched himself with gasoline in a Prague square and set his body afire, would have been less likely to succeed in making his cry ring out to the nation's consciousness as a man who had drowned.

On the other hand Ophelia is inconceivable afire and had to die by water, for the depth of water converges with the depths of the human soul; water is the exterminating element of those who have been led astray in their own selves, in their love, in their feelings, in their madness, in their mirrors and their whirlwinds; in old folk songs girls whose fiances fail to return from war drown themselves; Harriet Shelley threw herself into the water; Paul Celan drowned in the Seine.

poprobuj opjanetj s chegonibudj drugogo, a