Biography of Mikhail Zverev

He began the professional biography of the naval officer in the Baltic, then served in the Northern Fleet for 20 years, on destroyers and at the headquarters of the surgical ships. A participant in distant sea hikes, captain of the 2nd rank of reserve, today he lives in his beloved St. Petersburg. Even when he was a cadet of the school, mastering the profession of a ship-mechanical engineer, he began to study in the literary studio, which was led by the famous Leningrad poet Leonid Ivanovich Haustov.

He also writes prose, which was published in the journal Aurora and the collection of the Russian Geographical Society "Following the Guide Star." The author of several poetic collections, a laureate in the poetic nomination of various festivals of the author’s song. Member of the Union of Writers of Russia. And last year, Mikhail became a member of the Baku International Festival of Author's Song and Poetry.

As he recalls: “... I was going to Baku for a long time. Even during the service in the north, he dreamed of taking a ticket to the camp site in Mardakan, but did not work out. Either the service did not allow, or there was no way to get the tickets - now I don’t remember ... to come to you only in M ​​for your wonderful festival. This trip was a truly landmark event in my life!

.. Unimaginable hospitality, warm and such a creative atmosphere of communication with like -minded people, with comrades in a poetic word - it is worth a lot! And how many new acquaintances with colleagues from different cities and countries! .. And most importantly, acquaintance - with the city itself, with Baku! I can say: where there are some “tourist Mecks” before him - well, at least the same Barcelona where I visited the same year.

The capital of Catalonia does not reach the capital of Azerbaijan, does not reach ... They say that Yesenin was mistaken at one time about the fact that he was in Persia, but I think he was not disappointed when he recognized the truth. Mikhail Treger sometimes turn to each other. And there is your own circle. And there is no closer circle. And we live in it, love and create.

But we change ... from the external something not important, not ours. And a period of not necessary in life or in love. And the circle narrows. And the one who falls out, no longer let his own in a new pack, but remembers that strangers - and we - hold on! And protect each other. Simple truth. And the successes that have fallen from the circle and so on, and the plans of the huge ...

I forgot them. And all of us is God the judge. What is there? .. The gray sky and rain? .. So it happens in the summer. And in the spring and even more so ... Today is not about that at all. The foliage will turn yellow - we will not see. And autumn melts ... There are no trees from the windows of the huge -story buildings, we live among the stone, we hasten on the asphalt underground.

But it seems simple: a tram, to the station, and - to the village, to the forest, river, fire ... in a word, to the light. Although for a week. Like my friend. But - left. He lives, where the dawns are gold even on a cloudy day of the edge of the forest, where you will find any answers to your questions in a henitarian one and you will get a vaccine from stress. Summer in the stone jungle ends.

Will there be autumn? However, suddenly the yellow sheet clung to the window by accident. On the seventh floor! .. But where? He himself became a question, this sheet. He calls, beckons to the light - both obviously and secretly. In the forest, to the river and grass, unobtrusively warning: “You will be late for the fall today, and what will happen after?

.. I made myself go into the tram trailer, I’m already in the way, I’ll come there to a friend to visit. But the tram did not come to the station, I made a mistake of the route. We are sometimes mistaken, the truth, in general, is simple in the crowd, which creeps with a flexible octopus along the river from asphalt, in the subway, as usual, flowing. Moika, 12 if it “pressed” and I want to cry - whether the sun, slush, on the Moika, 12 I just come, I will stand and let it go as if I touched Pushkin’s sadness, as if he had brought him from a black river to this house on that tragic evening.

The sleds near the arch drove smoothly ... Natal Nikolavna stood in the arch. I told her: “Everything is by no means dangerous, you don’t need to kill in vain - Pushkin will bend, get better, I know! .. I went to the sink, to the grid itself - the time in the river is clearly reflected. I’ll stand and forget about sadness, I said that he would let go ... let go. St. Petersburg hears time Zummer here I understand that Pushkin has not died!

.. Children's games “Lapto”, “Staintes”, “Stander” 1 and “Delay” ... Who now remembers? .. What is hide and seek? In a huge world, bursting without looking back in the seventies, and so we have been running for forty years. Not knowing how to freeze. Playing games. Sometimes for life. Afghan, Caucasus ... Look, they deceived death. With eyes closed - at the same time, on the curve, do not fall into the gang, or in the bottle, or in the trash.

Try it - straight! And honestly judge, and know-you will not be smooth bribes from you. Impaids are not given to you and me. Children to grow in truth and in abundance, in love for work, God and the country ... In the white light, like in the park-jumping ... fled! .. Suddenly a “fifty dollars”, like a stop-frame ... and I don’t know who caught a ball that soared into the sky that was in Paris you bring me one sip of dispersion of disperse from Paris.

But - real. Not from books. A sip at least. For us two freedom with you, such a trifle -.