IN THE CORNER OF THE SOFA
But they rang in the fireplace
Embers.
Behind the window burned out
Lights.
And drown in the blizzard sea
Ships.
And groan over the southern sea
Cranes.
Believe only me, night heart,
I am a poet!
What kind of fairy tales do you want
I'll tell you
And what kind of masks do you want
I'll give you.
And any shadows will pass
On fire
Strange sketches of visions
On the wall.
And any knee will bow
Before you...
And any flower will drop
Blue...
Block collections of poems
Everything that is momentary, everything that is perishable,
You buried for centuries.
You sleep like a baby, Ravenna,
Sleepy eternity in the hands.
Slaves through Roman gates
They no longer import mosaics.
And the gilding burns
In the walls of cool basilicas.
From slow kisses of moisture
Softer than the rough vault of tombs,
Where the sarcophagi grow green
Holy monks and queens.
Silent grave halls
Shady and cold is their threshold,
So that the black gaze of blessed Galla,
Waking up, did not burn the stone.
Military battle and resentment
Forgotten and erased the bloody trail,
To the resurrected voice of Placis
I did not sing the passions of the past years.
The sea has receded far away
And the roses cordoned off the shaft,
So that Theodoric sleeping in the tomb
I did not dream about the storm of life.
And the grape deserts
Houses and people are all coffins.
Only copper solemn Latin
Sings on the stoves like a trumpet.
Only in a fixed and quiet gaze
Ravenna girls, sometimes
Sorrow for the irrevocable sea
It goes by in slow succession.
Only at night, leaning towards the valleys,
Keeping score for the coming centuries,
Dante's shadow with an eagle profile
He sings to me about the New Life.
Blok's collection of poems
Doors open - there is flickering,
And behind the bright window - visions.
I do not know - and I will not hide ignorance,
But I will fall asleep - and dreams will flow.
In the still air - melting, knowing...
There is something lurking and laughing.
What is laughing? Is it mine, sighing,
Is my heart beating happily?
Is spring outside the windows - pink, sleepy?
Or is it Yasnaya smiling at me?
Or just my heart in love?
Or just seems? Or will everyone know?
Blok's collection of poems
And the heavy dream of worldly consciousness
You will shake off, yearning and loving.
Vl. Solovyov
I anticipate you. Years pass by
All in the guise of one I foresee You.
The whole horizon is on fire - and unbearably clear,
And silently I wait, longing and loving.
The whole horizon is on fire, and the appearance is near,
But I'm afraid: you will change your appearance,
And daringly arouse suspicion,
Replacing the usual features at the end.
Oh, how I fall - both sadly and lowly,
Not having overcome deadly dreams!
How clear is the horizon! And radiance is near.
But I'm afraid: you will change your appearance.
And again - the impulses of youth,
And explosions of forces, and extreme opinions ...
But there was no happiness - and no.
Though there is no more doubt about it!
Go through dangerous years.
You are being watched everywhere.
But if you come out intact - then
You will finally believe a miracle
And finally you will see
That happiness was not necessary,
What is this pipe dream
And half a life was not enough
What overflowed
The delight of a creative bowl,
That everything is not mine, but ours,
And the connection with the world was established, -
And only with a gentle smile
Sometimes you will remember
About that childhood dream, about unsteady,
What they used to call happiness!
Download Blok's poems
During the day I manage the affairs of vanity,
I light fires in the evening.
Hopelessly foggy - you
You are playing a game in front of me.
I love this lie, this shine
Your alluring girlish outfit,
Eternal hubbub and street crackling,
Runaway row of lanterns.
I love and admire and wait
Iridescent colors and words.
I'll come and go again
Into the depths of flowing dreams.
How deceitful and how white you are!
I love white lies.
Completing the day's work
I know you'll be back tonight.
Blok's collection of poems
Let the dawn look into our eyes
Nightingale sings at night
Let at least once in the darkness of the night
I will encircle your camp with my hand.
And the shuttle will go, swinging
In long dark reeds,
You cling to me, caressing,
With hot passion on the lips.
Alexander Alexandrovich Block of poems
Freedom looks into the blue.
The window is open. The air is harsh.
For yellow and red foliage
The month is running out.
He will be at night - a bright sickle,
Glittering on the harvest of the night.
His sunset, his damage
For the last time caresses the eyes.
How pale is the moon in the blue,
How golden fine hair ...
How it sways in the foliage
Forgotten, faded, dead spike...
Blok's collection of poems
TWELVE
Black evening.
White snow.
Wind, wind!
A person does not stand on his feet.
Wind, wind -
In all God's world!
Curls the wind
White snow.
Ice under the snow.
Slippery, hard
Every walker
Slides - oh, poor thing!
From building to building
The rope is stretched.
On the rope - poster:
The old woman is killed - crying,
Never understand what it means
What is this poster for?
Such a huge patch?
How many footcloths would come out for the guys,
And everyone is undressed, undressed ...
An old lady like a chicken
Somehow rewound through the snowdrift.
- Oh, Mother Protector!
- Oh, the Bolsheviks will drive into the coffin!
The wind is biting!
The frost is not far behind!
And bourgeois at the crossroads
He hid his nose in the collar.
Who is this? - long hair
And he says in a low voice:
- Traitors!
- Russia is dead!
Must be a writer
Vitiya...
And there is the long-haired one -
Sideways and behind the snowdrift ...
What is not fun today
Comrade pop?
Do you remember how it used to be
Belly walked forward
And the cross shone
Belly for the people?
There is a lady in doodle
Turned up to the other:
We've been crying, crying...
slipped
And - bam - stretched out!
Hey, hey!
Pull up!
The wind is cheerful.
And angry and happy.
Twisting the hems
Passers-by mow.
Tears, crumples and wears
Large poster:
"All power to the Constituent Assembly!"
And delivers the words:
And we had a meeting...
...Here in this building...
... Discussed -
Resolved:
For a while - ten, for the night - twenty-five ...
... And do not take less from anyone ...
...Let's go to sleep...
Late evening.
The street is empty.
One tramp
stooping
Let the wind whistle...
Hey poor fellow!
Come -
Let's kiss...
Of bread!
What's ahead?
Come on!
Black, black sky.
Anger, sad anger
Boiling in the chest...
Black malice, holy malice...
Comrade! Look
In both!
The wind is blowing, the snow is falling.
Twelve people are coming.
Rifles black straps
All around - lights, lights, lights ...
A cigarette in the teeth, a cap is crushed,
On the back you need an ace of diamonds!
Freedom, freedom
Eh, eh, no cross!
Tra-ta-ta!
Cold, comrades, cold!
And Vanka and Katya are in the tavern...
- She has Kerenki in her stocking!
Vanyushka himself is now rich ...
- There was our Vanka, but he became a soldier!
Well, Vanka, son of a bitch, bourgeois,
Mine, try, kiss!
Freedom, freedom
Eh, eh, no cross!
Katya and Vanka are busy -
What, what are you busy with?
Tra-ta-ta!
All around - lights, lights, lights ...
Shoulder - gun belts...
Revolutionary keep step!
The restless enemy does not sleep!
Comrade, hold the rifle, don't be afraid!
Let's fire a bullet at Holy Russia -
In the condo
Into the hut
Into the fat ass!
Eh, eh, no cross!
How did our guys go?
To serve in the Red Army -
To serve in the Red Army -
Lay down your head!
Oh you, grief-bitter,
Sweet life!
torn coat,
Austrian gun!
We are on the mountain to all bourgeois
Let's fan the world fire
World fire in the blood -
God bless!
The snow is spinning, the reckless driver is screaming,
Vanka with Katya flies -
electric flashlight
On the shafts...
Ah, ah, fall!
in a soldier's overcoat
With a stupid face
Twists, twists a black mustache,
Yes, it spins
Yes, he jokes...
So Vanka - he is broad-shouldered!
That's how Vanka is - he is eloquent!
Katka-fool hugs,
Is talking...
tilted her face,
Teeth sparkle...
Oh, you, Katya, my Katya,
Fat-faced...
On your neck, Katya,
The scar didn't heal from the knife.
Under your chest, Katya,
That scratch is fresh!
Eh, eh, dance!
Painful legs are good!
Walked in lace underwear -
Come on, come on!
She fornicated with officers -
Get lost, get lost!
Eh, eh, get lost!
My heart skipped a beat!
Do you remember, Katya, an officer -
He did not leave the knife ...
Al didn't remember, cholera?
Ali memory is not fresh?
Eh, eh, refresh
Sleep with you!
wore gray leggings,
Mignon ate chocolate.
I went for a walk with the cadet -
Have you gone with a soldier now?
Eh, eh, sin!
It will be easier for the soul!
Again rushes towards the gallop,
Flying, screaming, yelling scorcher ...
Stop, stop! Andrew, help!
Petruha, run from behind! ..
Fuck-tararah-tah-tah-tah-tah!
Snow dust rolled up to the sky! ..
Likhach - and with Vanka - ran away ...
One more time! Pull the trigger!..
Fuck it! You will know
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
How to walk with a strange girl! ..
Duck, scoundrel! Wait, stop
I'll deal with you tomorrow!
And where is Katya? - Dead, dead!
Shot head!
What, Katya, are you glad? - No gu-gu ...
Lie down, you carrion, in the snow!
Revolutionary keep step!
The restless enemy does not sleep!
And twelve come again
Behind him is a gun.
Only the poor killer
Can't see a face...
Everything is faster and faster
Slows down the step.
Wrapped a scarf around his neck -
It won't get better...
What, comrade, are you not cheerful?
- What, my friend, dumbfounded?
- What, Petruha, hung his nose,
Or did you feel sorry for Katya?
Oh, comrades, relatives,
I loved this girl...
The nights are black, intoxicated
With this girl spent ...
Due to the remoteness of the trouble
In her fiery eyes
Because of a crimson mole
Near the right shoulder
I ruined, stupid,
I ruined in the heat of the moment ... ah!
Look, bastard, started a hurdy-gurdy,
What are you, Petka, a woman, or what?
- True soul inside out
Thinking of turning it out? Please!
- Maintain your posture!
- Keep control over yourself!
Not such a time now
To babysit you!
The burden will be heavier
Us, dear comrade!
And Petruha slows down
Hasty steps...
He tosses his head
He's happy again...
Eh, eh!
Having fun is not a sin!
Lock up the floors
Today there will be robberies!
Open cellars -
Walking now nakedness!
Oh you woe-bitter!
Boredom is boring
Mortal!
I'm on time
I'll go, I'll go...
I'm already dark
I'll scratch, I'll scratch...
I'm seeds
I'll get it, I'll get it...
Already I am a knife
Stripe, stripe!
You fly, bourgeois, like a little funnel!
I'll drink blood
For a sweetheart
Chernobrovushka...
Rest in peace, Lord, the soul of your servant...
Can't hear the noise of the city
Silence over the Neva tower
And there is no more policeman -
Walk, guys, without wine!
There is a bourgeois at the crossroads
And he hid his nose in his collar.
And next to it is pressed with hard wool
A lousy dog with his tail between his legs.
There is a bourgeois, like a hungry dog,
It stands silent, like a question.
And the old world, like a rootless dog,
Standing behind him with his tail between his legs.
Something blizzard broke out
Oh, blizzard, oh, blizzard!
Can't see each other at all
In four steps!
The snow curled like a funnel,
The snow has risen...
Oh, what a blizzard, save!
- Petka! Hey, don't lie!
What saved you from
Golden iconostasis?
Unconscious you, right,
Judge, think sensibly -
Ali hands are not in the blood
Because of Katya's love?
- Take a revolutionary step!
The restless enemy is near!
Forward, forward, forward
Working people!
And they go without the name of a saint
All twelve - away.
Ready for everything
Nothing to be sorry...
Their rifles are steel
To the invisible enemy...
In the alleys are deaf,
Where one dusty blizzard ...
Yes, in downy snowdrifts -
Don't take off your boots...
It beats in the eyes
Red flag.
Is distributed
Measure step.
Here - wake up
Fierce enemy...
And the blizzard dusts them in the eyes
Days and nights
All the way!...
Go-go,
Working people!
They walk into the distance with a mighty step ...
- Who else is there? Come out!
It's the red flag wind
Played ahead...
Ahead is a cold snowdrift.
- Who is in the snowdrift - come out!
Only a beggar dog is hungry
Wandering behind...
Get off you, mangy,
I'll tickle with a bayonet!
The old world is like a lousy dog
Fail - I'll beat you!
Shows his teeth - the wolf is hungry -
The tail is tucked in - does not lag behind -
A cold dog is a rootless dog...
- Hey, come on, who's coming?
Who's waving the red flag there?
- Look at it, eka darkness!
- Who walks there at a quick pace,
Buried for all houses?
Anyway, I'll get you
Better surrender to me alive!
- Hey, comrade, it will be bad,
Come on, let's start shooting!
Fuck-tah-tah! - And only an echo
Responds to houses...
Only a blizzard with a long laugh
Falling into the snow...
Fuck-tah-tah!
Fuck-tah-tah!
... So they go with a sovereign step -
Behind is a hungry dog.
Ahead - with a bloody flag,
And behind the blizzard is unknown,
And unharmed by a bullet
With a gentle step over the wind,
Snowy scattering of pearls,
In a white corolla of roses -
In front is Jesus Christ.
Blok's collection of poems
Who accepted the world as a ringing gift,
Like a handful of gold, I became rich.
I look: it grows, the fire makes noise -
Your eyes are burning.
How creepy and bright!
The whole city is a bright sheaf of fire.
The river is clear glass
And only - there is no me ...
I'm here in the corner. I am there, crucified.
I'm nailed to the wall - look!
Your eyes are burning, burning
Like two black dawns!
I will be here. We're all on fire
The whole city is mine, the river, and I...
Baptize with fire baptism,
Oh my dear!
Alexander Blok, poetry
I stood up and raised my hands three times.
To me through the air rushed
Dawn solemn sounds,
Crimson dressing heights.
The woman seemed to get up
Prayed, leaving the temple,
And threw a pink hand
Grain obedient pigeons.
They turned white somewhere higher
Whitening, stretched out into a thread
And soon overcast roofs
Wings began to gild.
Above their borrowed gilding,
Standing high on the window
I suddenly saw a huge ball,
Floating in red silence
Blok's poems
Z. GIPPIUS
(When receiving "The Last Poems")
Woman, insanely proud!
I understand your every hint,
white spring fever
With all the wrath of ringing lines!
All words are like a sting of hate,
All words are like piercing steel!
The poison of a drunken dagger
I kiss you more, looking into the distance ...
But in the distance I see - the sea, the sea,
A gigantic sketch of new countries,
I don't hear your voice in the formidable choir,
Where the hurricane roars and howls!
Scary, sweet, inevitable, necessary
I - rush into a polyfoam shaft,
To you - a green-eyed naiad
Singing, splashing at the Irish rocks.
High - above us - above the waves, -
Like the dawn over black rocks -
The banner is flying - International!
Poems of Blok Alexander Alexandrovich
MY MOTHER
A haze descended, fraught with fogs.
The winter night is dull and not alien to the heart.
The orphan spirit embraces the impotence of labor,
Longing peace, some kind of loss.
How do you keep track of how the soul is sick,
And, dear friend, how do you heal wounds?
Neither you nor me through the winter mists
We cannot see why longing is strong.
And whether our minds believe that once
Is oppression imposed on us for someone's sin?
And peace itself is dreary, and oppresses us to the ground
Powerless work, unknown loss?
Blok's collection of poems
Work, work, work:
You will be with an ugly hump
For long and honest work,
For long and honest work.
Under the holiday - others will be sweet,
Another will sing your songs
With others dashing soldier
Will go, akimbo, in a round dance.
You know about yourself that it's not worse
I would have danced another - how!
What could pull tighter
Your gold embroidered sash!
What growth and figure you came out
More stately and more beautiful than others,
What is that young woman - taller
Other young women are removed!
It has the power of playing blood,
Though swarthy cheeks are pale,
Her black eyebrows are thin,
And strict speeches are intoxicating...
Oh sweet, how sweet, so sweet
Work until dawn
And know that a dashing soldier
She left the village, in a round dance!
Blok began to compose his poems at a young age: from poem to poem, his talent only became stronger. The first poems were inspired by Vasnetsov's paintings depicting the prophetic birds of ancient Russian legends: Sirin, Alkonost, Gamayun. And if you look more deeply, then these verses were about life, about time, about the Motherland and Russia: they only talk about it large and symbolically.
After the revolution, the theme of two Russias emerges in the poet's work: autocratic and popular. Russia for the poet is a huge, native creature, similar to a person, but more comfortable and affectionate. All works are imbued with love for the motherland, for his country: therefore, the events of the revolution are too hard for him. Hunger, poverty and defeat cause Blok to dislike lyrics: and he begins to create only satirical poems with poisonous mockery.
In the plays (dramas) that were released at that time, one feels bitter disappointment from the imperfection of the world and deceived hopes.
Alexander Blok also wrote works of a historical nature: the most famous of them are the poems of the Kulikovo battle cycle. The Battle of Kulikovo for the poet is a historical fact that gives reason to reflect on the present and future of Russia.
But his best poems are dedicated to the Beautiful Lady, to whom the knight (monk, youth, poet) aspires. There is a lot behind this desire: a mystical comprehension of God, the search for a life path, the pursuit of an ideal, beauty, and many other shades. Even descriptions of nature are not given by themselves. Dawn, stars and the sun are synonyms for the Beautiful Lady, morning and spring are the time of hope for a meeting, winter and night are separation and evil. The theme of love permeates all the work of the poet.
The famous poet of the Silver Age also had an interest in children's literature, wrote many poems, some of which were included in collections of poems for children.
Blok's work is multifaceted: he wrote about Italy and St. Petersburg, about poetry, about time and death, about music and friendship. He dedicated his poems to his mother, God, woman, Pushkin, Shakhmatov, Mendeleeva. Look at the lyric works on this page - and choose those that will awaken your soul and give you the pleasure of the Word.
RUSSIAN POET
Alexander Alexandrovich Blok was born in 1880 on November 16, according to the old style. By origin, family and kinship ties, friendly relations, the poet, who himself called himself in the third person "the triumph of freedom", belonged to the circle of the old Russian intelligentsia, who from generation to generation faithfully served science and literature.
In 1889, the nine-year-old Blok settled with his mother and stepfather in the Grenadar barracks, located on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, on the banks of the Bolshaya Nevka.
Then Blok was sent to the gymnasium.
In 1897, finding himself with his mother abroad, in the German resort town of Bad Nauheim, Blok experienced his first, but very strong, youthful love. She left a deep mark on his poetry.
In 1898, the gymnasium was completed, and Blok "quite unconsciously" entered the law faculty of St. Petersburg University. three years later, convinced that he was completely alien to legal science, he transferred to the Slavic-Russian department of the Faculty of History and Philology, from which he graduated in 1906.
But in 1901, theatrical interests gave way to literary interests. By that time, Blok had already written many poems. This is a lyric of love and nature, full of vague forebodings, mysterious allusions and allegories. Young Blok plunges into the study of idealistic philosophy, in particular the works of the ancient Greek philosopher Plato, who taught that, in addition to the real world, there is also a certain “superreal”, higher “world of ideas”.
At this time, Blok had already entered into literature, joining the Symbolists. His debut took place in the spring of 1903 - almost simultaneously in the St. Petersburg magazine "New Way" and in the Moscow almanac "Northern Flowers". He establishes connections in the symbolist circle and in St. Petersburg (with D. Merezhkovsky and Z. Gippius) and in Moscow (with V. Bryusov). But Blok was especially close to the circle of young admirers and followers of Vl. Solovyov, the main role among which was played by the novice poet, prose writer, theorist Andrei Bely. In this circle, Blok's poems met with enthusiastic recognition.
At the end of 1904, the symbolist publishing house "vulture" published Blok's first book - "Poems about the Beautiful Lady".
The revolution of 1905 made an enormous impression on him, and greatly clarified his ideological and artistic vision. He saw the activity of the people, their will to fight for freedom and happiness, discovered a “citizen” in himself, for the first time he felt the sense of blood connection with the people inherent in every true and honest artist and the consciousness of social responsibility for his writing.
Blok's former indifference to social and political events was replaced in 1905 by an avid interest in what was happening. He participated in revolutionary demonstrations and once led one of them carrying a red flag. The events of that time were reflected in a number of Blok's works.
The years 1906-1908 were the time of Blok's literary growth and success. He becomes a professional writer, his name is already becoming quite widely known.
One after another, Blok's books are published - collections of poems "Unexpected Joy" (1907), "Snow Mask" (1907), "Earth in the Snow" (1908), a collection of "lyrical dramas" (1908).
In 1907 - 1908, a deep discord with almost all of his symbolist literature was determined. The further, the more persistently Blok goes his own way. From his reflections, doubts and anxieties, he drew decisive and final conclusions.
In 1909, he made an interesting journey through Italy and Germany, which resulted in the cycle "Italian Poems" - the best that is in Russian poetry about Italy.
In 1911 he traveled again in Europe (Paris, Brittany, Belgium, Holland, Berlin),
In 1913 - for the third time (Paris and the Biscay coast of the Atlantic Ocean).
In the summer of 1916, he was drafted into the army and served in the engineering and construction team, which was building field fortifications in the front line, in the Pinsk swamps. Here he found the news of the overthrow of Somoderzhaviy
In May 1917, Blok was recruited to work in the Extraordinary Commission of Inquiry, which was established to investigate the activities of tsarist ministers and dignitaries. This work captivated Blok and revealed to him the "gigantic dustbin" of the autocracy. Based on the materials of interrogations and testimony, he wrote a documentary book, The Last Days of Imperial Power.
In the winter, spring and summer of 1921, Blok's last triumphal performances took place - with an inspired speech about Pushkin and with the reading of his poems (in Petrograd and Moscow).
In May, Blok felt unwell, which soon turned into a serious illness.
Alexander Blok lived and worked at the turn of two worlds - in the era of the preparation and implementation of the October Revolution. He was the last great poet of the old, pre-October Russia, who completed in his work the poetic searches of the entire 19th century. And at the same time, his name opens the first, title page of the history of Russian Soviet poetry.
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Book Description
The collection includes the following poems:
"Do you remember? In our sleepy bay ... "
"I'm sitting behind a screen..."
"Your face is so familiar to me..."
“A lot has gone silent. Many have left…
“I have been waiting all my life. Tired of waiting…"
“Gone. But the hyacinths were waiting…”
“At night in my garden, a weeping willow is crying ...”
"Maybe you don't want to guess..."
Autumn dances
"Dear maiden, why do you need to know..."
"No, never mine, and you will not be anyone's..."
"The wind will blow, the snow will howl..."
"Life is without beginning or end..."
“Why in my tired chest…”
Leaving the city...
“And we don’t have long to admire ...”
"Here He is - Christ - in chains and roses ..."
“God’s clarity is everywhere…”
"He is brought - this iron rod ..."
“The willow fluffed up, swayed under the window ...”
dilapidated hut
And again snow
Pale tales
"I see the gleam forgotten by me..."
"Let the moon shine - the night is dark..."
"One for you, one for you..."
“You lived a lot, I sang more ...”
“It’s time to forget a dream full of happiness…”
"Let the dawn look into our eyes..."
“The muse in the dress of spring knocked on the door of the poet ...”
“A full moon has risen over the meadow…”
"Catching moments of gloomy sadness ..."
"She was young and beautiful..."
“I am running in the dark, in the icy desert…”
“In the night when the alarm falls asleep…”
Servus-reginae
Solveig
Guardian angel
"I was embarrassed and cheerful..."
"Oh, spring without end and without edge ..."
"When you stand in my way..."
“I remember the long agony…”
“About valor, about exploits, about glory…”
On the Kulikovo field
"How hard it is to walk among people..."
"When you're driven and beaten..."
"A sound is coming..."
"The earthly heart freezes again..."
“You were all brighter, truer and more charming ...”
nightingale garden
“He was met everywhere…”
Stranger
“Night, street, lamp, pharmacy…”
In the corner of the sofa
"The barka of life has risen ..."
"The wind brought from afar ..."
Gamayun, the prophetic bird
"With my bitter tears..."
At the restaurant
“I aspire to luxurious will…”
"Twilight, spring twilight..."
“I plunged into the sea of clover ...”
"The violin groans under the mountain ..."
"Unfaithful daytime shadows are running ..."
“I had funny thoughts…”
“I enter dark temples…”
“I wake up - and it’s foggy in the field ...”
“You were born from a whisper of words…”
Commander steps
“The evening shadows have not yet fallen…”
"I am Hamlet. Cold blood ... "
“Like day, bright, but incomprehensible ...”
“The girl sang in the church choir…”
“Turned everything into a joke at first…”
“A blizzard sweeps the streets ...”
"And again - the impulses of youth ..."
“I told you unearthly…”
“Having accepted the world as a ringing gift…”
On islands
"Harmonica, harmonica! .."
"She came from the cold..."
booth
before the court
“Oh, I want to live crazy…”
"Born in deaf years..."
"I'll get up in the foggy morning..."
"Petersburg snowy twilight"
“A child is crying. Under the crescent moon ... "
"Hours go by, and days, and years."
"We live in an old cell"
"I believe in the Sun of the Covenant..."
"Understand, I'm confused, I'm confused ..."
"We were together, I remember..."
"For a brief dream that is now dreaming ..."
“There is a glow in the sky. Dead night is dead…”
"Lonely, I come to you ..."
“I feel for you. Years pass by…
"We met at sunset..."
Two inscriptions on the collection
Pushkin House
gray morning
“The wind wheezes on the bridge between the pillars…”
"Rising from the darkness of the cellars ..."
“I went to bliss. The path is shining…
“Morning breathes into your window ...”
To an unknown god
To my mother (“The haze has descended, it is fraught with fogs ...”)
"Bright sun, blue distance..."
Clouds float lazily and heavily...
"A poet in exile and in doubt..."
“Even though everyone is still a singer…”
"Seeking salvation..."
“Come in everyone. In the inner chambers…”
“I, the lad, light the candles…”
“The window did not shake for a whole year ...”
"Grass sprouted at the forgotten graves."
"Don't trust your roads..."
“I will see how it will die ...”
"Renounce your favorite creations..."
"Exhausted by a storm of inspiration..."
"Slow, hard and sure..."
"Rest is useless. The road is steep…”
"I went out. Slowly descended…”
To my mother (“The more painful the rebellious soul ...”)
"On a cold day, on an autumn day..."
"On a white night, the month is red..."
"I'm waiting for a call, looking for an answer ..."
"You are burning above a high mountain..."
“Slowly at the church doors…”
“There will be a day - and a great thing will happen ...”
"I've been waiting for a long time - you came out late..."
"Snowstorm at night..."
New Year's Eve
"Dreams of unprecedented thoughts ..."
"For the spring festival of light..."
“Sorrowful people will not understand…”
"You are God's day. My dreams…"
“Guess and wait. Midnight…”
"I was slowly losing my mind..."
"Spring in the river breaks ice floes..."
“I am looking for strange and new on the pages ...”
“During the day I manage the affairs of vanity ...”
“I love high cathedrals…”
“Wandering within the walls of the monastery…”
“I am young, and fresh, and in love ...”
“The light in the window staggered ...”
"Golden Valley..."
“I went out into the night - to find out, to understand ...”
ecclesiast
“He appeared at a slender ball ...”
"Freedom looks into the blue..."
"Secret signs flare up ..."
“I kept them in the chapel of John…”
“I stand in power, lonely in soul…”
"Singing dream, blooming color..."
“I won’t go out to meet people…”
“The halls darkened, faded…”
"Is everything calm among the people? .."
"Doors open - there are flickering ..."
“I carved a staff from oak…”
"She was fifteen years old..."
"Light dream, you will not deceive ..."
"Dark, pale green..."
“My beloved, my prince, my fiancé…”
Solveig! Oh Solveig! Oh, the Sunny Way!..”
"In the thick grass you will disappear with your head ..."
Girl from Spoleto
“The spirit of spicy March was in the lunar circle…”
On the railway
Humiliation
“There is in a wild grove, by a ravine ...”
To my mother (“Friend, look how in the plain of heaven ...”)
"Tired of the day's wanderings..."
“I dreamed of the death of a beloved creature…”
"The moon is awake. The city is noisy…”
“I dreamed of you again, in flowers ...”
"The edge of heaven is an omega star..."
"Dear friend! You are young at heart...
Song of Ophelia
“When the crowd around the idols applauds…”
"Do you remember the disturbing city ..."
"Fate itself bequeathed to me ..."
“I am old at heart. Some sort of black lot ... "
"Don't shed bitter tears..."
“Why, why into the darkness of non-existence…”
"The city sleeps, shrouded in mist..."
“As long as I have a calm foot ...”
Dolor ante lucem
“Autumn day descends in a slow succession ...”
“You rise, what a strict day ...”
“We walked along the azure path ...”
“The morning eye has opened…”
"I walked in the darkness of a rainy night..."
"Today at night one path ..."
May is cruel with white nights!..
autumn day
Artist
Twelve
"I remember the tenderness of your shoulders..."
“Well, what? Weak hands are wearily twisted…”
Last parting word
“The bow sang. And a stuffy cloud ... "
queen
"You lived alone! You were not looking for friends ... "
autumn will
"I put my ear to the ground."
“In hungry and sick captivity…”
Zinaida Gippius
"The angry look of colorless eyes ..."
How the ocean changes color...
"The snowy spring is raging..."
“Oh yes, love is free like a bird…”
"It's raining and slushy outside..."
"They will bury, they will bury deep..."
"You keep saying that I'm cold, withdrawn and dry..."
"The flute sang on the bridge..."
