Poetry

I love to read poetry, because the soul soars to the heavens, and you completely given product. I admire many authors, both Russian and foreign. Also, I myself write poems. I do not know why I have this gift, no one in my family did not write poems:)
Here are poems that I like:

There is a place where the sidewalk ends                           

And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.


Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

 ГLet us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

And this is my poem. Translation is certainly not to rhyme:)
Она любила песни петь, но я пропал, и жизни нет,
И тут появится мужчина, ведь был тогда я дурачиной,
Ведь надо было убивать, а не прощение давать.
Ведь надо было не просить, а просто взять и всё разбить.
И тут он явится с ней вместе, и больно мне, и жажду мести,
И не могу расправить крылья, томящиеся на спине,
И не могу достать я силы, чтобы вернуть её себе...
Ну вот, пришлось мне всё оставить: простить, понять, принять, забыть,
И тем не менее я знаю: "Всегда буду её любить!"

She loved to sing, but I was gone, and there is no life, And there will be a man, after all was when I durachinoy, After all, it was necessary to kill and not to give forgiveness. After all, it was necessary not to ask, but just take a break and all. And here he comes with her, and hurt me, and the thirst for revenge, And I can not stretch their wings, languishing on the back, And I can not get the strength to return her to me ... Well, I had to leave everything: to forgive, understand, accept, forget, And yet, I know: "I will always love her!"