Anastasia Volnaya - Another version

With a basket of light gray heather of time
Eternity walked on by fate, as if on berries.
In the forest villages of the wingless sleeping tribe
She looked for herbs for sunny wines and medicines.
Parallel winds merged in the unity of breath.
Myrrh gave incense to the good winds.
In the basket are the buds of the spring flowers
of the universe,
The moisture of the rains and the reflection
of the heavenly lightning.
In a basket of light gray heather of time.

My wings are dropping
When I meet evil
Without beginning or end
Without the back of the head and face
Painfully flattened «O»
Screaming crooked «O»
There is no smoke in it, no fire
It has no personality, no «I».
«O» is not my enemy and not my friend,
Just a curly-sided circle.
My wings rise
When I meet evil.
I soar above evil.
Only sound
Only «O»,
Evil is nothing.

In the labyrinths of rain wanders girl
Barefoot, blue-eyed.
The red curl sticks to the cheek,
She ate cherries – now grimy.
Laughs like the sun in the morning
Over a world obscure wise
And everything is easy for her, that is difficult
And all that is usually a miracle.
Teach me, dear girl
To be lighter than a white lily.
Teach you to believe in a fairy tale where is summer
Will decorate the meadows with gouache,
Where did the carriage come from the pumpkin
And where is the kind Baba Yaga.
(Negative character of Russian fairy tales)
Teach a quiet song to hear
That flowers sing, opening.
Teach how to embroider without gold
Golden patterns – dreams.
Teach me to reach the sky
Five-rayed palm.
And believing in real fiction,
Stay earthly and pure
Teach me, dear girl.

Like a dream.
Like a moan.
A lioness running along the sea
Like a ghost, a moment or a bird.
And the light is silvery
Planets of unknown
Wonderful,
Icy,
Free.

A boy in purple robes
A boy like the sun
Holding bouquet
The brightest colors —
The crown of a passing childhood
Divine fate symbol.
Christ will die young
Christ will rise up young
Christ the essence and beacon of faith,
Truth and love.
A boy in purple robes
The boy is like the sun.

Evening as an angel sleeps on a cloud.
In guise praying to the divine Earth
Millet’s revelation came.
Angelus.

It’s evening at the pond.
The water extinguished the mirrored suns
Like candles.
In the darkening distance, the last bird
Graduated from the song.
Forerunner
Flight in a dream —
A fading, melting evening.

We are a tree.
I am the roots.
You are the trunk
Going up.
I am the branches.
And believing
Into each other
We are
One world
And eternity.

Black outlines.
White shadows.
By charcoal and by chalk.
By spirit and by body.
Images are dual