margarita vasilievna, her daughter maria, she read my poems and said, this is great. she also got acquainted with european french poetry. i don't know what would be if such meetings did not take place. i already took these elements to the editors of the daryal magazine, where they were very kindly received, and since then my printed life has begun. ah, poetic. well, then we are prosaic. i thought i was painting the canvas. it turned out to be just clots of paint on a thread. among others, and so simple, my path is just a smear in space without a trace and sleepless despair is sudden, like the smell of summer lines, and you are my only knowledge of the sinful world that converged at the point when we ended up in it belarus for me, my native place. consonant with my inner rhythm, my inner strings. here i was able to implement what i wanted. in general, i believe that belarus is a blessed place, a special place, and this place has a special mission. it even seems to me that i understand the soul of this land, the soul of this people. and if it were necessary to describe

margarita vasilievna, her daughter maria, she read my poems and said, this is great. she also became acquainted with european french poetry. i don't know what would happen if such meetings didn't happen. i already took these poems to the editors of the daryal magazine, where they were very kindly accepted, and since then my printed life began. uh, poetic, but then we're prose. i thought i was painting the canvas. it turned out to be just clots of paint on a thread. among others, and so just my way just smear in space without a trace and sleepless despair, sudden, like the smell of summer lines, and you are my only knowledge of the sinful world that descended to the point, when we ended up in it, belarus is my native place, consonant with my inner rhythm, my inner strings. here i was able to implement what i wanted. in general, i believe that belarus is a blessed place, a special place, and this place has a special mission. it even seems to me that i understand the soul of this land, the soul of this people. and if it were necessary to describe somehow in words. what i

margarita vasilievna, her daughter maria, she read my poems and said, this is great.became acquainted with european french poetry. i don't know what would happen if such meetings didn't happen. i have already taken these elements.