I hear the graceful trills of birds … In pre-dawn paradise silence rolled up shaggy mountains are covered with a mysterious haze! I hear delightful crackling of firewood in an oven. And as an itch – sweet prenatal torments of creativity. I want to write the music (in it only the acoustic guitar and an abstruse violin sounds) and to describe euphoria of the overflowed feeling of original freedom!

Isn’t present gradually – importunate voices of announcers, the ringing pop-music, there are no politicians who are exercising the wit in mutual insults capable to incite hatred to any people! By no means … Landscapes of mountains consecrate the occurred verses of great Russians: Pushkin, Lermontov, Paustowsky! They are added by inspired Georgian chorus from which blood cold lines and from Nazym Hikmet’s verses run! There is only a Universal love to all bright palette of mankind … And this catharsis found outdoors will be broken the next day in turmoil of everyday life … And may be I’m I  poisoned?!!! And you?! And we all?


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