16 Answers

  1. Alexander Blok
    O. M. Solovyova

    Looking for salvation.
    My lights burn on the heights of the mountains –
    The entire area of night was illuminated.
    But most of all, I have a spiritual gaze
    And You're far away… But are you?
    Looking for salvation.

    The starry choir sounds solemnly in the sky.
    I am cursed by human generations.
    I lit a bonfire for You in the mountains,
    But You are a vision.
    Looking for salvation.

    Tired of sounding, the starry chorus stops.
    The night passes. Doubt runs.
    There You descend from the distant bright mountains.
    I've been waiting for you. I have stretched out My heart to You.
    In You – salvation!

  2. In Russia, they part forever.

    Cities in Russia are different from each other

    so far away,

    That I shudder, whispering ” good-bye.”

    I touch my hand casually

    her hands.

    Any of the roads is long in life.

    Tell me, what is the Russian god?

    “Of course I will

    I'll be there.” I'll never come.

    In Russia, they part forever.

    “My soul,

    I'll be there.” I'll be back in hundreds of years.

    What a small thing, my dear, what a sad thing –

    We're here for good

    let's say goodbye. “Let me wipe it off.”

    Yes, I won't come. Probably going to die

    rather than.

    In Russia, they part forever.

    Add another ice cube

    in a cold verse.

    … And the trains go downhill,

    …And planes flying to the stars,

    they burn in them.

    Boris Ryzhy 1996

  3. While the fleece of your hair flows,

    Like gold in a radiant filigree,

    And do not lighten the crystal in the kink of the edge,

    Than a gentle swan's neck takeoff,

    While the inflorescence of your lips blooms

    More fragrant than early carnations

    And in vain the snow lily staranye

    Darken the brow with the purest snow and ice,

    Hurry up to experience the pleasure in the force,

    Hidden in the skin, in the curl, in the mouth,

    Until the bouquet of your carnations and lilies

    Not only did he not ingloriously wither away,

    But the years haven't turned you either

    In the ashes and in the ground, in the ashes, smoke and dust.

  4. I loved you. Love still (maybe,

    which is just a pain) drilling into my brain.

    Everything was blown to hell apart.

    I tried to shoot myself, but it's hard

    with weapons. And then: whiskey:

    which one to hit? It wasn't the trembling that spoiled it, but

    thoughtfulness. Heck! Everything is not human!

    I loved you so much, so hopelessly,

    As God grant you, but He won't!

    He, being on many a great deal,

    he will not create — according to Parmenides-twice

    this heat in the blood, a big-boned crunch,

    so that the fillings in the mouth melt from thirst

    touch – “bust” I cross out-mouth!

    Joseph Brodsky

  5. I'm on a ladder attached
    I was climbing into a ragged hayloft.
    I breathed milky star dust,
    He breathed the tangle of space.

    And I thought: why wake him up
    Extended swarm sounds,
    In this eternal squabble to catch
    The Aeolian miracle system?

    There are seven stars in the dipper of ursa major.
    There are five good feelings on earth.
    Swells, rings the top of your head
    And it grows and rings again.

    An unharnessed huge cart
    It sticks out across the universe.
    The hayloft of ancient chaos
    Will tickle, dust…

    Not with your own scales rustling,
    Against the wool of the world we sing.
    We build the lyre as if in a hurry
    Acquire a shaggy rune.

    From the nest of fallen goldfinches
    Mowers bring back, —
    I'll break out of the burning ranks
    And I will return to my native sound range.

    To the pink blood connection
    And grass sukhorukiy zvon
    Parted: one-holding together,
    And the other – in an abstruse dream.

    O. Mandelstam

  6. I'm confused, I'm confused
    Pages and lines of poetry,
    I wrapped your shoulders in a cloak,
    I stayed with you without a word…

    Understand, in this twilight – a magician
    I stand over you and wait
    Under the beating holiday flag,
    On guard, downwind, delirious…

    And the wind sings and prophesies
    I'll have a blue dream in the future…
    He wants to laugh, he
    wants you to have fun with me!

    And roses, autumn roses
    I dream about it every step of the way
    Through the haze, and the lights, and the frosts,
    On white, light snow!

    The wind won't tell you about the future,
    The autumn flower will not say
    That the sweet one will quietly untie
    Your black silk handkerchief.

    That only ringing dreams
    And the soul is a scorching shadow…
    That the heart is a flying bird…
    What is in the heart-aching laziness…

  7. Ivan Bunin


    And the wind, and the rain, and the mist
    Over a cold desert of water.
    Here life died before spring,
    Until spring, the gardens were empty.
    I'm alone in the country. It's dark
    behind my easel, and the wind is blowing through the window.

    Yesterday you were at my place,
    But you're too bored with me.
    In the late afternoon of a stormy day
    You've started to look like a wife to me…
    Well, good-bye! Sometime before spring
    I can live alone – without my wife…

    Today they go without end
    The same clouds – ridge after ridge.
    Your trail in the rain on the porch
    Blurred, filled with water.
    And it hurts me to look alone
    Into the gray afternoon darkness.

    I wanted to shout after her:
    “Come back, I am related to you!”
    But for a woman there is no past:
    She fell out of love and became a stranger to her.
    Well! I'll light the fireplace and drink…
    It would be nice to buy a dog.

  8. Does he love you? doesn't like it? I'm breaking my hands

    And I scatter my fingers and break them

    so they tear up having made a wish and let them go through May

    corollas of counter daisies

    Let the gray hair reveals a haircut and shave

    Let the silver years call a lot

    I hope I believe it will never come

    shameful prudence to me

    Vladimir Mayakovsky.�Unfinished.

  9. Mikhail Lermontov

    “Rodina “

    I love my fatherland, but with a strange love!

    My mind will not win her over.

    No glory bought with blood,

    No peace of proud trust,

    No dark antiquity cherished traditions

    They don't stir up pleasant dreams in me.

    But I love you – for what, I don't know myself –

    Its steppes are a cold silence,

    Its forests are boundless swaying,

    The floods of its rivers are like the seas;

    I like to ride in a cart on a country road

    And, with a slow gaze piercing the shadow of the night,

    Meet on the sides, sighing about the night's lodging,

    Shivering lights of sad villages;

    I love the smoke of burnt reapers,

    In the steppe overnight wagon train

    And on a hill in the middle of a yellow field

    A couple of white birches.

    With a joy unknown to many,

    I see a full threshing floor,

    A thatched hut,

    Window with carved shutters;

    And on a holiday, on a dewy evening,

    Watch until midnight ready

    To dance with stomping and whistling

    Under the dialect of drunken peasants

  10. Alexander Alexandrovich Blok

    Night, street, street lamp, pharmacy,
    Meaningless and dim light.
    Live another quarter of a century —
    It will be like this. There is no outcome.

    If you die, you'll start all over again
    And everything will repeat as of old:
    Night, icy ripples of the canal,
    Pharmacy, street, street lamp.

  11. E. Asadov
    “Direct conversation”

    You share your pain with your friends,
    They're trying to comfort you now,
    And his last words,
    Only you frown, scold.

    And is it really a human being?
    The one who came and bewitched you,
    Became close to you in two weeks,
    Lived with you for a month and then ran away?

    You've been talking to trash, my dear.
    What can we say about him now?
    Rubbish is not worth long attention,
    It's more important to talk about you.

    Did you love him? Really?
    But half a step – is that the way to go?!
    How many pounds of salt did you eat with it?
    How did you manage to look into the soul?!

    What did you know about him?
    Because he has lips, hands,
    Compliment, flowers, fashionable trousers –
    That's all, perhaps, mostly?

    Whatever it is that he whispers to you when you meet him,
    How is it possible to kiss with a proud soul
    on the fourth evening
    And declare your love on the eighth?!

    Let spring, let the smile of the eyes…
    But it's not enough, two weeks is not enough!
    If only you could see
    the arms around you first!

    You say it's hard to understand,
    If passion. Let's assume that it is.
    But after all, a Person must be different
    from cats and mongrels in some way!

    But feelings are so good
    That they burn beautifully, proudly, boldly.
    Let the love begin. But not from the body,
    And from the soul, you hear – from the soul!

    It's hard for you. Excuse me. I understand.
    But now you have no one to scold.
    It's not like I'm reading morals,
    You are smart and you need to understand:

    To appreciate you, and this is so,
    You know the price for yourself.
    Be proud. Don't trade
    Gold for the first copper!

    I immediately smeared the map of everyday
    life with a splash of paint from a glass;
    I showed
    the slanting cheekbones of the ocean on a plate of jelly.
    On the scales of the tin fish
    I read the call of new lips.
    Could you
    play a nocturne

    on the gutter flute?

  13. Well, you asked a question, dear:) I want to write a lot. But I will leave here Mayakovsky, his wonderful poem “Flute-spine”. Just the prologue, but read the whole thing, it's something incredible, dizzying. It is little known, so the choice fell on it in the answer to this question.


    For all of you
    who liked or like,
    kept by icons at the soul in a cave,
    like a cup of wine in a table toast,
    I will raise a skull filled with poems.

    More and more often I think-
    whether it is better to put
    a bullet point at its end.
    Today I

    'm giving a farewell concert just in case.

    Collect the brain in the hall
    of your favorite inexhaustible queue.
    Laughter from eye to eye Lei.
    Past weddings are the night of the row.
    Pour fun from body to body.
    Let no one forget the night.
    I'm going to play the flute today.
    On your own spine.�


    And boring and sad, and no one to give a hand

    In a moment of spiritual adversity…

    Wishes!.. what is the use of wishing in vain and forever?..

    And the years pass — all the best years!

    Be in love… but who is it?.. on time — not worth the trouble,

    And it is impossible to love forever.

    Will you look inside yourself? — there's no trace of the past there:

    And joy, and torment, and everything there is insignificant…

    What is passion? – after all, sooner or later their sweet disease

    Will disappear at the word of reason;

    And life as you look around with cold attention, —

    Such an empty and stupid joke…

  15. Joseph Brodsky

    “Don't leave the room, don't make a mistake…”

    Don't leave the room, don't make a mistake.

    Why do you need the sun if you smoke Popcorn?

    Outside the door, everything is meaningless, especially the cry of happiness.

    Just go to the bathroom and come right back.

    Oh, don't leave the room, don't call the engine.

    Because the space is made out of a corridor

    and ends with a counter. And if it comes in alive

    milka, open your mouth, kick me out without undressing me.

    Don't leave the room; consider yourself blown away.

    What is more interesting in the world of a wall and a chair?

    Why go out from where you will return in the evening

    the same person you were, and even more so, crippled?

    Oh, don't leave the room. Dance, catch, bossanova

    in a coat on the naked body, in shoes on bare feet.

    The hallway smells of cabbage and ski ointment.

    You have written many letters; one more will be superfluous.

    Don't leave the room. Oh, let only the room

    guesses what you look like. And generally incognito

    ergo sum, as the substance in our hearts noticed.

    Don't leave the room! On the street, tea, not France.

    Don't be a fool! Be what others weren't.

    Don't leave the room! That is, give free rein to the furniture,

    merge your face with the wallpaper. Lock yourself in and barricade yourself

    it depends on chronos, cosmos, Eros, race, virus.

  16. Keep quiet, hide and hide

    And your feelings and dreams —

    Let it be in the depths of your soul

    They get up and go in.

    Silent as the stars in the night,-

    Admire them and be silent.

    How can the heart express itself?

    How can someone else understand you?

    Will he understand how you live?

    A spoken thought is a lie.

    Blowing up, you will outrage the keys,-

    Feed on them — and be silent.

    Just be able to live in yourself —

    There is a whole world in your soul

    Mysterious and magical thoughts;

    They will be deafened by outside noise,

    Daytime rays will disperse,-

    Listen to their song — and be silent!..

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