Collection of the beautiful lady block. Analysis of the cycle "poems about a beautiful lady" of the block, the image of a beautiful lady
Alexander Blok entered literature as a symbolist poet. At the turn of the century, European culture was going through a deep crisis due to disillusionment with previous social ideals. The feeling of the inevitable death of the social system and the catastrophic nature of life demanded a revision of the previous moral values. This is how symbolism arose - one of the brightest literary trends in poetry at the turn of the century. Symbolism is an aesthetic attempt to escape the contradictions of reality into the realm of eternal ideas and truths. In the poetry of the Symbolists, there has been a departure from the civic traditions of the Russian classics. A. Blok, A. Bely, V. Ivanov belonged to the "younger" symbolists who defined symbolism as a philosophical and religious understanding of the world.
"Poems about the Beautiful Lady" (1904) is the first collection of poetry by A. Blok, an original and unique work of the great poet. It is called Blok's lyric diary, since it is based on the facts of his biography, tells about his experiences and feelings. The cycle "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" itself is the second (central) part of the collection. However, its peculiarities are difficult to understand without referring to those poems that made up the section "Ante Lucem" that opens the book. The name itself (translated from Latin - "to the light") speaks of the loneliness of the lyric hero, of his stay in darkness. The poem "Let the month shine - the night is dark ..." just tells about the isolation of the lyrical hero from the joys of the world:
Spring is in my soul of love
Will not replace the stormy weather.
The poet compares the state of mind of his hero with dark night... “Night spread” over him, and in his soul the same darkness. The loneliness of the hero with a characteristic romantic outlook is aggravated by his isolation from life. Although nowhere is there a direct opposition of "I" and "we", nevertheless, it is clear that somewhere there are people ("I am wandering among the crowd") who live differently, but lyric hero he cannot and does not want to break with his loneliness. “Let life bring happiness to people,” but not to him. This is his position. And it is reinforced by his concept of a double world. He - creative person- trying to comprehend the secrets of the universe, that is, the secrets of the heavenly, unearthly world. And, as you know, the night for thinking is the best time. The poem begins and ends with the same quatrain, in which the hero's attitude is expressed:
Let the month shine - the night is dark.
May life bring happiness to people, -
Spring is in my soul of love
Will not replace the stormy weather.
The lyrical hero is convinced that the night will remain dark for him, even if the month is shining. However, there is also a hint of the possibility of light appearing in this gloomy world. The poet calls the mist "before dawn," which means that there is still hope for change.
The central cycle of the collection is poems, which are entitled “Poems about the Beautiful Lady”, reflecting the development of a complex love story between the poet and his future wife L. Mendeleeva. Here, too, as in the first cycle, there is no sense of reality. Everything is very shaky, unclear, indefinite. However, the poet here hints at the approach of the one who will fill his life with meaning - the Beautiful Lady. Blok arises and develops the medieval motive of chivalrous service to his lady of the heart. We do not see her. She is incorporeal, her appearance is unclear, but everything hints at her appearance.
The poem "The wind brought from afar ..." is distinguished by its dynamics. It is the wind (I just want to say "the wind of change") here that becomes evidence of the approach of the one that is the embodiment of the beautiful and unearthly essence of the world. She is compared to "close spring", "starry dreams" fluttered about her, and the wind carried her "sonorous songs".
Now Blok has other images as well. So, the eternal night gradually dissipates - a "piece of sky" appears, which by the end of the poem expands to "bottomless azure". Not only the world of light is changing, but also the world of sound. If before the lyrical hero was surrounded by a deathly and soundless night, now the wind brings “hint songs”, which then turns into “sonorous songs”.
The poet's life before the appearance of his Beautiful Lady is compared to winter. And immediately there is a premonition of the imminent struggle of winter and spring. No, there is no spring yet, the lyric hero only feels its "twilight", but she is already close:
In the twilight of the approaching spring
Winter storms were crying ...
If earlier poems were static, then this is striking in its dynamics. Movement is conveyed here by numerous verbs ("brought", "opened", "wept", "soared") and a mobile rhythm. The composition of the poem itself is constructed in such a way that everything speaks of the imminent destruction of the lyric hero's loneliness, of the premonition of the appearance of one that he does not yet know, but sees in "star dreams."
Thus, the central plot of "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" is the expectation of the meeting that will transform the lyrical hero, unite the heavenly and earthly worlds. The lyrical hero and his Beautiful Lady are not equal in advance in the poet's presentation. She is his unattainable and eternally beautiful ideal. He is a knight, ready to serve her and bow before her.
In "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" the idea of "double world", characteristic of the Symbolists, was embodied - the opposition of "earth" and "heaven", material and spiritual. The Beautiful Lady is the Soul of the world - a feminine substance by nature. This idea belongs to V. Solovyov, who created the doctrine of the World Soul, which is a spiritual principle, harmony, a symbol of goodness and beauty.
In general, Blok's poetry collection is characterized by lofty feelings, a break with reality, the sacredness of unearthly ideals, and the cult of beauty.
The lyrical plot of the cycle is the expectation of the meeting between the hero and the Beautiful Lady, who must transform the world, make the kingdom of God on earth. The lyrical hero - an earthly being - feels love for the Beautiful Lady, for a deity, for an unearthly ideal:
I have a presentiment of you. The years pass by -
All in the guise of one foresee You.
The entire horizon is on fire - and unbearably clear,
And silently I wait - longing and loving.
In the halo of holiness and divine radiance, the hero is his dream, the hope for future happiness. It is no accident that the action takes place in a church, where a person communicates with God through prayer.
I enter dark temples
I am performing a poor rite.
There I am waiting for the Beautiful Lady
In the flicker of red lamps.
The Beautiful Lady is an unearthly creature that only vaguely resembles a woman's appearance. This is a sublime idea, a man's dream of better life, hope for happiness, longing for the incomprehensible.
"Poems about the Beautiful Lady" are written in a refined and refined language, imbued with the search for the ideal, harmony, beauty, a sharp rejection of everyday life, the desire for perfection.
Cycle "Poems about the Beautiful Lady"
(129 poems)
Introduction
The rest is in vain. The road is steep.
The evening is beautiful. I knock on the gate.
The long knock is alien and strict,
You scatter pearls around.
The tower is high, and the dawn froze.
The red secret at the entrance lay.
Who set fire to the tower at the dawn,
What did the Princess Herself erect?
Each ridge on a patterned thread
Red flame throws towards you.
The dome tends to the azure heights.
The blue windows lit up with a blush.
All the bells are buzzing.
The sunsetless outfit will flood in the spring.
Have you been waiting for me at the sunsets?
Did you light the tower? Opened the gate?
———————————————————————————
***
I went out. Went slowly
To the land of the twilight of winter.
The younger days were
Came trustingly from the darkness ...
They came and stood behind their shoulders,
And sang with the wind about spring ...
And with quiet steps I walked
Spending eternity in the depths ..
O, better days were alive!
To your song from deep
Twilight descended on the ground
And dreams rose up for eternity! ..
———————————————————————————
***
The wind has brought from afar
Songs of spring hint,
Somewhere light and deep
A patch of sky opened.
In this bottomless azure
In the twilight of the approaching spring
Winter storms were crying
Starry dreams were floating.
Timid, dark and deep
My strings were crying.
The wind has brought from afar
Your sonorous songs.
———————————————————————————
***
Quiet evening shadows
The snow is falling in blue.
Host of discordant visions
Your ashes have been disturbed.
You sleep behind the distant plain
Sleeping in a blanket of snow ...
Songs of your swan
Sounds seemed to me.
A voice calling alarmingly
An echo in the cold snows ...
Is it possible to be resurrected?
Is the past not dust?
No, from the house of God
Immortal spirit
Came out dear and familiar
To disturb my ears with songs.
Host of grave visions
The sounds of living voices ...
Quiet evening shadows
The blues touched the snow.
———————————————————————————
***
The soul is silent. In the cold sky
All the same stars are burning for her.
All around about gold or about bread
Noisy peoples shout ...
She is silent - and hears the screams,
And he sees distant worlds
But alone two-faced
Prepares wonderful gifts
He prepares gifts to his gods
And, anointed, in silence,
He catches with tireless hearing
The distant call of another soul ...
So white birds over the ocean
Unseparated hearts
They sound like a call behind the fog
They understand only to the end.
———————————————————————————
***
You retreat into the scarlet twilight,
In endless circles.
I heard a small echo,
Distant steps.
Are you near or far
Lost in the air?
Wait or there is no sudden meeting
In this resounding silence?
They sound stronger in silence
Distant steps
Do you close, flaming,
Endless circles?
———————————————————————————
***
O. M. Solovyova
In the dark and wild night -
Son of bottomless depth -
The pale-faced ghost is haunting
In the fields of my country
And the fields in the great darkness
Alien, cold and dark.
Only sometimes, having heard God,
Daughter of the blissful side
From the dear palace
Chases ghostly dreams
And a lot flashes in the fields
Pure virgins of spring.
———————————————————————————
***
Towards spring bloom
The islands turned green.
Only one song is not finished
Forgotten the eternal words ...
The soul was late in striving,
In a guy and vaguely froze,
I did not know any secret,
I didn't understand some dreams ...
And now - in envious embarrassment
Looks - the snow has melted,
And the rivers are discordant flow
It finds its shores.
———————————————————————————
***
On a cold day, on an autumn day
I will go back there again
Remember this spring sigh,
To see the past image.
I will come and I will not pay
Remembering, I will not burn out.
Meet a song at random
The dawn of a new autumn.
Evil time laws
Lull the mournful spirit.
Past howl, past moans
If you don’t hear it, I’m extinguished.
The very fire is blind eyes
Will not burn with a dream of the past.
The very day is darker than the night
Lulled by the soul
———————————————————————————
***
So - we parted at dawn.
A. B.
All earthly dreams fly away,
Alien countries are getting closer.
The countries are cold, dumb
And without love, and without spring.
There - far away, opening the pupils,
Visions of loved ones
Enter new dungeons
And they look at them indifferently.
There - the mother of the son does not recognize,
Passionate hearts will go out ...
There is hopelessly fading away
My wanderings are endless ...
And suddenly, on the threshold of imprisonment,
I will hear distant steps ...
You are lonely in the distance
You will close the last circles ...
———————————————————————————
***
Before sunset
Among the centuries-old trees
I love unfaithful beauties
Your eyes and your words.
Goodbye, there is a shadow in the night
The night is as short as a spring dream
But I know - tomorrow is a new day
And a new law for you.
Do not delirium, you are not a forest ghost,
But the old man did not know fairies
With such unfaithful eyes
With such a changeable soul!
———————————————————————————
***
All being and existence is in accordance
In great, unceasing silence.
Look there sympathetically, indifferently, -
I don't care - the universe is in me.
I feel and I believe and I know
The seer cannot be deceived by sympathy.
I am in myself with abundance I enclose
All those lights that you burn.
But there is no more weakness, no more strength,
The past, the future is in me.
All being and existence is frozen
In great, unchanging silence.
I'm here at the end full of insight
I've crossed the line.
I'm just waiting for a conditional vision
To fly off into another void.
———————————————————————————
***
Someone whispers and laughs
Through the azure mist.
Only in silence will I feel sad
Laughter from lovely countries again!
Again a whisper - and in a whisper
Someone's caress, as in a dream,
In someone's feminine breath
It can be seen forever joy to me!
Whisper, laugh, honey
Sweet image, gentle dream;
You are a stranger, apparently, by force
Endowed and elated.
———————————————————————————
***
On a white night the month is red
Floats up in the blue.
The ghostly beautiful wanders
Reflected in the Neva.
I see and dream
Execution of secret thoughts.
Is there good in you,
Red month, quiet noise?
———————————————————————————
***
Heavenly is not measurable by the mind,
Azure is hidden from the minds.
Only occasionally do the seraphim bring
A sacred dream for the chosen ones of the worlds.
And I dreamed of Russian Venus,
In the heavy tunic of the povita,
Impassive in purity, joyless without measure,
There is a calm dream in the facial features.
This is not the first time she came down to earth
But they crowd around her for the first time
The heroes are not the same, and the knights are different ...
And the shine of her deep eyes is strange ...
———————————————————————————
***
They sound, they rejoice
Never getting tired
They triumph over the victory
They are blissful forever.
Who will keep track of the surrounding ringing,
Who will feel even a brief moment
My endless in the secret bosom,
My harmonic language?
May my freedom be alien to everyone
Let me be a stranger to everyone, in my garden
Nature is ringing and raging.
I am an accomplice to her in everything!
———————————————————————————
***
Lonely, I come to you
Bewitched by the fires of love
You are wondering. - Don't call me -
I myself have been saints for a long time.
From the heavy burden of years
I was saved by one fortune-teller,
And again I tell fortunes over you,
But the answer is unclear and confused.
Heavenly full days
I cherish years - do not call ...
Only soon will the lights go out
Enchanted dark love?
———————————————————————————
***
And the heavy sleep of everyday consciousness
You will shake off, longing and loving.
Vl. Soloviev
I have a presentiment of you. The years pass by -
All in one guise I foresee You.
The entire horizon is on fire - and unbearably clear,
And silently I wait - longing and loving.
The entire horizon is on fire, and the appearance is near,
But I'm scared: you will change your appearance,
And you will boldly arouse suspicion
Changing the usual features at the end.
Oh, how I fall - both sad and low,
Not having overcome the deadly dreams!
How clear is the horizon! And radiance is near.
But I am afraid: you will change your appearance.
———————————————————————————
***
... and it's too late to wish
Everything has passed: both happiness and sorrow.
Vl. Soloviev
Don't be angry and forgive me. You bloom lonely
Yes, and I will not return
These golden dreams, this deep faith ...
Hopeless is my way.
Blooming with sleepy thoughts, you bliss a lot,
You are strong with azure.
I have a different life and a different road,
And the soul has no time for sleep.
Believe - more unfortunate than my young worship
Not in a vast country
Where your mysterious genius breathed and loved,
Indifferent to me.
———————————————————————————
***
Behind the fog, beyond the forests
Lights up - disappears
I'm driving on wet fields -
It will flash again from afar.
So by the lights
Late at night, across the river
Over sad meadows
We are meeting with You.
But even at night there is no answer
You will go into the river reeds
Taking away the light source
Beckoning again from afar.
———————————————————————————
***
Young in idleness, in laziness before dawn
The soul soared upward, and there it found the Star.
The evening was foggy, shadows fell softly.
The Evening Star waited silently.
Unperturbed, on the dark steps
You entered, and, Silent, surfaced.
And a wobbly dream in dawn laziness
She transferred herself to the star paths.
And the night passed with a fog of dreams.
And a timid youth with dreams without number.
And dawn is coming. And the shadows run away.
And, Clear, You flowed with the sun.
———————————————————————————
***
Today you walked alone
I have not seen Your miracles.
There, over your high mountain,
The jagged forest stretched.
And this forest, close together,
And these mountain paths
They prevented me from merging with the unknown,
Blossom with your azure.
———————————————————————————
***
S. Solovyov
She grew up beyond the distant mountains.
Deserted valley - her homeland was.
None of you with burning eyes
She was not mature - she grew up alone.
And only the face of an immortal luminary -
What a day - looked at the virgin bloom,
And, wet cereal, she ascended to him,
She kept a secret trail in herself.
And she went into death, longing and longing.
None of you have seen the dust here ...
Suddenly it blossomed, triumphant in the azure,
In another distance and in unearthly mountains.
And now everything is covered with snow.
Who has visited the white temple, madmen?
She bloomed beyond the distant mountains,
It flows in a row of other luminaries.
———————————————————————————
***
Heed the call of a vague life,
Splashing secretly in me
Thoughts are false and momentary
Nor will I give myself up in a dream.
Waiting for the waves - passing waves
To the radiant depth.
I follow a little, bowing my knees,
Gentle in sight, quiet in heart,
Floating shadows
Of worldly affairs
Amid visions, dreams,
Voices of other worlds.
———————————————————————————
***
Transparent, unknown shadows
They float to You, and you float with them,
Into the arms of azure dreams
Indistinct to us - You give Yourself.
Before You turn blue without border
Seas, fields, and mountains, and forests,
The birds echo in the free heights,
The fog rises, the skies turn red.
And here, below, in the dust, in humiliation,
Seeing for a moment the immortal features
Unknown slave, full of inspiration
Singing to you. You do not know him,
You will not distinguish him in a crowd of people,
You will not reward him with a smile,
When he looks after him, not free,
Having tasted for a moment Your immortality.
———————————————————————————
***
I'm waiting for a call, looking for an answer
The sky grows numb, the earth in silence,
Behind a yellow cornfield - somewhere far away -
For a moment my appeal woke up.
I wait - and a new thrill embraces.
The sky is brighter, the silence is deeper ...
The night secret will be destroyed by the word ...
Have mercy, God, night souls!
For a moment I woke up behind a cornfield, somewhere,
A distant echo of my appeal.
I'm still waiting for the call, looking for an answer,
But the silence of the earth strangely lasts.
———————————————————————————
***
Is it not you in my dreams, melodious, passed
Over the banks of the Neva and outside the capital?
Didn't you put away the secret fear of the heart
With the courage of husbands and the tenderness of a girl?
You melted into the snow with a song endlessly
And she repeated the early spring in tune.
You walked like a star to me, but you walked in the light of day
And she sanctified the stones of the squares and streets.
I sing you, oh yes! But your light shone
And suddenly he disappeared - into distant fogs.
I direct my gaze to mysterious lands, -
I do not see you, and for a long time there is no God.
But I believe you will ascend, and the crimson dusk will break out,
Closing the secret circle, the movement is belated.
———————————————————————————
***
Outside the city, in the fields in the spring, the air breathes.
I walk and tremble in the foreshadowing of fire.
There, I know, ahead - the sea swell sways
The breath of the gloom - and torments me.
I remember: the capital is noisy and noisy far away.
There, in the twilight of spring, restless heat.
Oh, meager hearts! How hopeless are the faces!
Those who have not known spring yearn for themselves.
And here, as the memory of the innocent and great years,
From the dusk of dawn - unknown faces
The lights of life and eternity are broadcasting ...
Let's forget the long noise. Come to me without anger
Sunset, Mysterious Virgin,
Connect both tomorrow and yesterday with fire.
———————————————————————————
***
Evening day, dying,
Retreats to the edges of the night.
Visits me, growing
My unrelenting Secret.
Is it really a passionate thought,
Endlessly earthly wave
Lost in the midst of the noise here
Will not exhaust life to the bottom?
Is it really into the cold spheres
From an unsolved secret land
Send away and sorrow without measure,
And the love dreams are gone?
My oppression is dying
The sorrows of the day are satisfied
Only you are a lonely shadow
Visit me at sunset.
———————————————————————————
***
Don't wait for the last answer
You can't find him in this life.
But he clearly senses the poet's ear
A distant drone along the way.
He bowed his ear with attention,
He eagerly listens, waits sensitively,
And it was already heard:
Blossoms, bliss, grows ...
Closer and closer - the hope is stronger
But, oh! - the excitement cannot be taken down ...
And the prophetic falls, numb,
Hearing a close drone along the way.
Around - a family in the shower of prayers,
And over the cemetery - a measured ringing.
They cannot comprehend dreams,
Which he did not wait! ..
———————————————————————————
***
Do not sing to me both sweetly and tenderly:
I have long lost contact with the vale.
The seas of the soul are spacious and boundless,
The song will perish, retreating into boundlessness.
Some words without songs are clear to the heart.
Only by their truth will you flourish over your heart.
And the sound of the songs is annoying and passionate -
Contains an invisible lie.
My youthful ardor is ridiculed by you,
Abandoned by me - the fogs are behind.
Enveloped in dreams, which I fanned,
Understand what lies ahead.
———————————————————————————
***
I'm not sorry for the days, neither joyful nor sultry,
No ripe summer, no young spring.
They passed - light and restless,
And they will come again - they are given by the earth.
I'm sorry that the great day is coming soon,
The barely born child will die.
Oh, I'm sorry, friend, - the coming ardor will cool down,
Leaving into the past darkness and into the cold!
No, even at the end of a disturbing wandering
I will find ways, and I will not sigh about the day!
Do not darken the cherished date
To the one who sighs for me here.
———————————————————————————
***
Sign of a true miracle
In the hour of midnight darkness -
Misty darkness and a pile of stones,
You burn like a diamond in them.
And she herself - behind the haze river
Directing the mountain run
You are azure gold
Shone forever.
———————————————————————————
***
Will you wait until evening time
Again and desires, and boats,
Oars, and fire across the river?
Fet
Twilight, spring twilight,
Cold waves at my feet
In the heart - otherworldly hopes,
Waves run on the sand.
Echoes, a distant song
But I cannot distinguish.
The lonely soul cries
There, on the other side.
My secret is accomplished
Are you calling in the distance?
The boat dives, sways,
Something is running down the river.
In the heart - otherworldly hopes,
Someone towards - I run ...
Reflections, spring twilight,
Clicks on the other side.
———————————————————————————
***
You are burning over a high mountain
Inaccessible in His chambers.
I will rush in the evening,
I will embrace the dream in rapture.
You, hearing me from afar,
You will light your fire in the evening
I will become, faithful to the dictates of Fate,
Comprehend the fire game.
And when among the darkness in sheaves
Sparks will swirl in the smoke
I'll rush off with fire circles
And I will overtake You in the mansion.
———————————————————————————
***
Apparently, golden days have come.
All trees stand as if they were shining.
At night, cold blows from the ground;
In the morning White church in the distance
And close and clear in outline.
Everybody sings and sings in the distance
I don’t understand who sings; but it seemed
As if in the evening there, on the river -
Whether in the reeds, in dry sedge, -
And the familiar song rang out.
Only I don't want to find out.
And I don’t believe the songs of my acquaintances.
All the same - I do not understand the singer.
Should I hide from myself
Fatal loss?
———————————————————————————
***
A distant plain all around
Yes crowds of charred stumps
Below is the dear valley,
And the clouds are spreading over her.
Nothing beckons for itself,
As if the distance itself is close.
Here between heaven and earth
There is a gloomy melancholy.
She digs day and night
There are sandy hillocks in the fields.
Sometimes it will howl pitifully
And again it will be silent - for the time being.
And all that will be, all that was
Cold and soulless dust
How are these stones over the grave
Love lost in sweats.
———————————————————————————
***
I keep wondering about you
But, exhausted by the fortune-telling,
I look into your eyes sometimes
And I see a fatal flame.
Or a great thing happened
And you keep the covenant of the times
And, illumined, took refuge
From the breath of the tribes?
But I, obeying in advance,
Know, I will keep the holy covenant.
Don't leave me in a fog
Your early years.
There's a spell between us
But, permanently immovable,
I hide a kindred flame
Under his poor guise.
———————————————————————————
***
There is no end to forest paths.
Only meet up to the star
Slightly noticeable traces ...
Hear the ears of the forest blades.
Everywhere a clear rumor
About the lost and loved ones ...
On the tops of the low trees
The words of flight ...
I will not notice by the blades
Of the hidden trail ...
Here it is - a star has lit up!
There is no end to forest paths.
———————————————————————————
***
Dead force rushes me
Runs along the steel track.
The sky darkened with despondency,
In my heart - your voice: "I'm sorry."
Yes, and you are pure in separation
And immaculately holy.
Won the fiery sunset
A clear line goes out.
There is no hopeless grief!
The heart is under the yoke of labor
And in the heavenly space -
You are a golden star.
———————————————————————————
Dedication
The prophet's hopes arose -
Azure days are near.
May the radiance of the east
Hidden in an obscure shadow.
But it's sweet behind the fogs
The dawn is near.
The world's answer to me
This boundless poet.
Here - blue dreams
The shining temple was raised.
Everything blue is yours
And radiant - to you.
———————————————————————————
***
Winter will pass - you will see
My plains and swamps
And you will say: “How much beauty!
What a dead slumber! "
But remember, young, in silence
I have kept my thoughts
And waited in vain for your soul
Sick, rebellious and sullen.
I wondered in this twilight
I gazed cold death in the face
And waited endlessly
Peering into the fogs eagerly.
But you passed by, -
Among the swamps I kept my thoughts,
And this dead beauty
A gloomy trace remained in my soul.
———————————————————————————
***
I will get up in the foggy morning,
The sun will hit your face.
Are you, a desirable friend,
Are you coming up on my porch?
The gates are wide open!
The wind blew through the window!
The songs are so funny
Have not been distributed for a long time!
With them and in the foggy morning
Sun and wind in your face!
With them a friend is desired
Comes to my porch!
———————————————————————————
***
The evening shadows are closer again,
A clear day is burning out in the distance.
Hundreds of otherworldly visions again
They shook - float - approached.
What are you for a great meeting
Don't you reveal your depths?
Or do you smell another forerunner
The undoubted and near spring?
Slightly in the darkness I see the lamp
I will rise and, without looking, I fly.
You're in the twilight, honey, closer
To the immovable key of life.
———————————————————————————
***
I kept among the young harmonies
A pensive and gentle image of the day.
A whirlwind blew, flying dust rose,
And there is no sun, and dusk is around me.
But in my cell - May, and I live, invisible,
One, in flowers, and I'm waiting for another spring.
Walk away - I can smell the seraphim,
Your earthly dreams are alien to me here.
Go away, wanderers, children, gods!
I will bloom on the last day
My dreams are sacred halls
My love is a numb shadow.
———————————————————————————
***
I went out into the sleepy streets.
There, in the skies, there are clouds
Illuminated through the fog.
With them - familiar, I hear, follow ...
Will the heart wake up today?
Is the answer new or past life,
Do both seem to be together?
If the clouds carried evil,
My heart would not tremble ...
The door creaked. His hand trembled.
Tears. And songs. And complaints.
———————————————————————————
***
Glow white, yellow, red,
Screams and ringing in the distance.
You will not deceive, the anxiety is in vain,
I see lights on the river.
With a bright glow and late cries
You will not destroy dreams.
The ghost looks with great eyes
Because of the hustle and bustle of the people.
With your death I will nourish only your eyes,
Burn your ships!
Here they are - quiet, bright, fast -
They rush to me from afar.
———————————————————————————
***
Am I writing or are you from the grave
She sent her youth, -
Former roses, a ghost, dear to me
I, as then, will put on a shoe.
If I die, birds of passage
The ghost will be dispelled, joking.
You will also say as you parse the pages:
"That was God's child."
———————————————————————————
***
I'm waiting for a cold day
I wait for the gray twilight.
Heart froze, ringing:
You said: “I’ll come, -
Wait at the crossroads - far away
Crowded and bright roads,
To the greatness of the earth
You couldn't part.
I will quietly come and stand still,
How is your heart ringing
I will open the door for you
In the twilight of a winter day. "
———————————————————————————
***
There will be a day - and a great thing will come true,
I sense a feat of the soul in the future.
You are different, dumb, faceless,
Lurking, you conjure in silence.
But what will you turn to - I do not know,
And you don't know if I'll be yours
And there they have fun with victory
Above a single and terrible soul.
———————————————————————————
***
I waited a long time - you came out late
But in anticipation the spirit revived,
Dusk fell, but without a tear
I strained my eyes and ears.
When the first flames burst
And the word rushed to heaven, -
Ice broke, the last stone
I fell - and my heart began to work.
You are in a white blizzard, in a snowy groan
She surfaced again as a sorceress,
And in the eternal light, in the eternal ringing
The churches have mingled domes.
———————————————————————————
***
Snow blizzard at night
I covered the trail.
Pink, delicate
Morning wakes up light.
The dawns are red,
Lighting up the snow.
Bright and passionate
Shook the shore.
Following the ice blue
I'll surface at noon.
Maiden in snow frost
Meeting in reality.
———————————————————————————
Divination
I am mighty and great for divination,
But I can't keep track of you.
Will I fly on the air for you -
You bloom on the earthly shore.
I descend into the flowering steppes -
You go into the evening sunset
And the chains bound me
Lonely strumming on the ground.
But my divination is not in vain:
Let the "yesterday" be sad and scary.
But today - both secretly and passionately
Half of the sky has turned red since the morning.
I see at the far end
A flaring cloud - you.
You look, smiling and knowing
You will come trembling and loving.
———————————————————————————
***
Unspoken speech disturbing
I bury goodbye at night.
The windows of the tower are all on the road,
I see a faint candle flame.
Should I wait for a late appointment?
I know - the young at heart is on the way, -
The scent of an unknown meeting
The heart wants to tremble and bloom.
On this night, fragrant dew,
Like words wet passions
Will lie hard on soft braids -
The head will burn in the morning ...
But unsaid speech is alarming
Goodbye in the night - not a lot.
A faint flame stares at the road
A bright flame trembles in the chamber.
———————————————————————————
***
Be silent, as of old, hiding the light -
I don't expect early secrets.
There is one answer to my question:
Look for your star.
I'm not expecting early secrets, believe me
They will not ascend to me.
The door is closed in front of me
To a mysterious orphanage.
In front of me is a harsh heat
Sincere tears and troubles
And there is a fire in my soul -
One, one answer.
Keep quiet, as of old - I will follow
The rise of my star
But to my heart, to my heart I will point out
I am late mysteries traces.
But the first secrets of your spring
Others will dream of light.
Our two waves will merge
In the crucible of later troubles.
———————————————————————————
***
Evening twilight, believe
I was reminded of an obscure answer.
I'm waiting - the door will suddenly open
A fading light will come.
Like pale dreams in the past
The features of my face have been preserved
And fragments of unknown words
Like the echoes of old worlds
Where did you live and, pale, walked
The gloom melts under the eyelashes,
A living boat is behind you,
As if white swan, swam,
Behind the boat - fire jets -
My restless songs ...
You listened to them thoughtfully,
And the features of the faces have been preserved,
And the pale heights were remembered,
Where the last dreams swept.
I live in this height, believe me,
The vague memory of the gloomy years,
I vaguely remember - the door will open,
A fading light will come.
———————————————————————————
When sending roses
I watched the evil god
Those stuffy flowers
Their everlasting poison
Breathe and revel in you.
With their passionate, with their languid laziness
In your youthful twilight
And a fiery and flattering shadow
My dreams will enter.
Inevitable and mighty
And no dates, and no meetings,
They take you from a stuffy cloud
They will burn with living lightning.
———————————————————————————
New Year's Eve
Cold fogs lie
Crimson fires are burning.
Svetlana's frosty soul
In the dreams of a mysterious game
Snow will creak - hearts will be engaged -
The still moon again.
They laugh outside the gates
Further - the street is dark.
Let me take a look at the holiday of laughter,
I'll go down, covering my face!
Red ribbons are a hindrance
Sweetheart will look at the porch ...
But the fog doesn't move
Waiting for the midnight hour.
Someone whispers and laughs
And bonfires are burning, burning ...
Snow will creak - in a frosty distance
A quiet, creeping light.
Someone's sled ran ...
"Your name?" - Laughter in return.
Here a snowy whirlwind has risen,
The whole porch turned white ...
Both laughing and gentle
Covers my face ...
Cold fogs lie
Turning pale, the moon creeps.
The soul of the brooding Svetlana
Confused by a wonderful dream ...
———————————————————————————
***
S. Solovyov
The wrong day shadows are running.
The bell call is high and audible.
Church steps are illuminated,
Their stone is alive - and is waiting for your steps.
You will pass here, you will touch the cold stone,
Dressed with the terrible holiness of the ages,
And maybe you will drop the spring flower
Here, in this darkness, with strict images.
Indistinct pink shadows grow
The bell call is high and intelligible,
Haze falls on the old steps ....
I am illuminated - I am waiting for your steps.
———————————————————————————
***
The wall merges high with the darkness,
There is a bright window and a bright silence.
No sound at the door and the stairs are dark
And the familiar tremor wanders in the corners.
There is a trembling light in the doorway and dusk all around.
And the bustle and noise on the street is immeasurable.
I am silent and wait for you, my poor, late friend,
The last dream of my soul in the evening.
———————————————————————————
***
There, in the twilight of the cathedral,
In the icon lamp light of the image.
Live night will come soon
Into your sleepless eyes.
In speeches about the wisdom of heaven
Earthly jets are felt.
There, in the vaults - unknown dusk,
Here is the chill of a stone bench.
The deep heat of a chance encounter
I breathed from a church height
These slumbering candles
On the image and on the flowers.
And inspiring silence
And your thoughts are hidden,
And the knowledge is vaguely felt
And the trembling of the dove and the snake.
———————————————————————————
***
But great wings grow.
The hour will come - the thought of the body will disappear,
The height will become transparent and light.
So bright as on the day of a merry meeting,
As transparent as your dream.
You will hear sweet speeches
The lips will blossom with renewed vigor.
You and I did not have time to get up, -
My heavy shield caught fire.
Let now in the fatal chapel,
Lonely, it will burn out in the heart.
I will raise a new shield to meet
I will lift up the living heart again.
You will hear sweet speeches
You will answer my love.
The hour will come - in cold blizzards
The distance of spring will peep, cheerful.
I am hidden until the time in the aisle,
But all-powerful wings are growing.
———————————————————————————
***
The evening fire blinked in the distance -
The clouds parted there.
And again, as before, between the thorns
My road is not easy.
We parted, having tasted both
Premonitions of bliss and earth.
And the heart celebrates until the grave
Dawn, blinking in the distance.
So fleeting in front of us
Life fluttered - and it's a pity:
Everything crumples - the dawn of the evening flame
The distance opened for the last time.
January 1902
———————————————————————————
***
Dreams of unprecedented thoughts
Guarding my day.
Here are the visions of the belated
A fiery shadow.
All rays of my freedom
They got red there.
There is snow and bad weather
They surrounded the temple.
All visions are so instant
Will I believe them?
But the Lady of the universe,
Inexpressible beauty
I, casual, poor, perishable,
Maybe we love.
Dating days, thinking days
They are guarding in silence ...
Should we wait for fiery madness
Young soul?
Ile, frozen in a snow temple
Without opening my face
Meet with marriage gifts
Messengers of the end?
———————————————————————————
***
For the spring festival of light
I call my own shadow.
Come don't wait for dawn
Bring the day with you!
A new day is not the one that beats
With the wind through the windows in the spring!
Let him laugh incessantly
An unprecedented day at the window!
We'll open the doors then
And we will cry, and we will sigh,
Our winter losses
Let's carry it with a light heart ...
———————————————————————————
***
You were strangely light
And a smile is not easy.
I'm in the rays of your nebula
Understood the young Christ.
Peeked through the old clouds
A bright unearthly reflection.
We are quivering more serenely
An emerald wave.
I am your love caress
Illuminated - and I see dreams.
But, believe me, I consider it a fairy tale
An unprecedented sign of spring.
———————————————————————————
***
Or are you tired before the time
You ask for oblivion of the graves
Son of a weary tribe
Alien belligerent forces?
You are looking for meekness, kindness,
Where are the young lights?
That's brooding old age
Days are closing in on us.
Nowhere to hide from time -
There will be a succession for us too ...
Poor of a poor tribe!
You have never loved!
———————————————————————————
***
There is no return for the sun.
"Snow Maiden" by Ostrovsky
Dreams are unaccountable, colors are bright,
I have no pity on pale stars.
See how sunny caresses
A stern cross is carved in the azure.
So these caresses near sunset
He surrenders like we do
Then there is no return to the Sun
From the impending darkness.
It will go in, and, dying,
We will subside, the cross will go out, -
And we'll wake up again, retreating
Into the calm chill of pale stars
———————————————————————————
***
We live in an old cell
By the water spill.
Here in the spring fun is in full swing
And the river sings.
But in anticipation of joy,
On the day of spring storms
To us will spill in the doors of the cells
Light azure.
And full of cherished tremors
Long awaited years
We'll rush off-road
Into the untold light
———————————————————————————
***
Both the Spirit and the Bride say, come.
Apocalypse
I believe in the Sun of the Covenant,
I see dawns in the distance.
I'm waiting for the universal light
From the spring land.
Everything breathed in lies
She staggered back, trembling.
Before me - off-road
Golden border.
Of the reserved lilies
I am going through the woods.
Full of angel wings
Heaven is above me.
Incomprehensible light
The streams trembled.
I believe in the Sun of the Covenant,
I see Thy eyes.
———————————————————————————
***
You are God's day. My dreams -
Eagles screaming in the azure.
Under the wrath of radiant beauty
They are always in the whirlwind of the storm.
An arrow pierces their hearts
They fly wildly ...
But also in the fall - there is no end
Praises, and squealing, and screams!
———————————————————————————
***
The whole day is in front of me
Young, golden,
Drenched in the bright sun,
You walked a bright path.
So, merging with a sweet, distant,
I spent a spring day
And the evening light shadow
He walked towards, carefree.
Days of blissful dream -
You walked a clean path.
Oh, come up before me
Not in one imagination!
February 1902
———————————————————————————
***
Soothing and wonderful
And a strange secret povita
For our life is difficult
His great dreams.
The ghostly mists are sweet -
The Great Light is reflected in them.
And all the hard riddles
Find a daring answer -
In one ray that broke the fog,
In one golden hope,
In a warm heart - victorious
Both the cold and the grave twilight.
———————————————————————————
***
Life went slow like an old fortune teller
Mysteriously whispering forgotten words.
I sighed about something, I felt sorry for something,
His head was burning with some kind of dream.
Stopping at an intersection, in a field
I watched jagged forests.
But even here, under the yoke of an alien will,
The heavens seemed to be heavy.
And I remembered the hidden reasons
Captivity of thoughts, captivity of young forces.
And there, in the distance - jagged peaks
The departing day languidly gilded ...
Spring, spring! Tell me, what am I sorry for?
What kind of dream does your head burn?
Mysteriously like an old fortune teller
Forgotten words are whispering to me.
———————————————————————————
***
The herbs are sleeping beautiful
Full dew.
In the sky - secretly deceitful
Moonlight beauties.
Of these breath herbs
To us a deceiving dream.
I'm in your dreams
Passionately immersed.
It is believed and fancied:
We are in a concordant dream.
Anything you want will come true.
Lean over to me.
Hug - and we will meet
Hide in the grass
And then we'll light up
In the moonlit blue
———————————————————————————
***
My evening is close and powerless.
The heavens are getting dark, -
Sounds rush from the bell towers
I hear voices of winged ones.
You are a tender and thin sting
You try my depths
I follow the weary insight
For the news of a spring alien to me.
There is an occasional excitement between us.
Accidentally sweet deception -
Doomed me to worship
I called you from the white countries.
And in the endless distance
Sadly voices will freeze
When shrouded in shadow
My skies will go out.
———————————————————————————
***
I am miserable in deep powerlessness
But Thou art clearer and more charming.
There are azure wings beating
A familiar song flutters.
In a fit of mad and sweet
In the wilderness of burning anger
I will trust the bottomless mysteries
Thy eyes, Bright Virgin!
Let me not escape bondage,
Let the loss be hopeless, -
You are here, in the original vale,
I once glanced without anger!
———————————————————————————
***
I catch trembling, cold hands;
Familiar features fade in the twilight! ..
My you, all mine - until tomorrow's parting,
I don't care - you are with me until the morning.
The last words, exhausted,
You whisper endlessly, in an ineffable dream.
And a dim candle, powerlessly burning out,
We are plunged into darkness - and you are with me, in me.
Years have passed and you are mine, I know
I catch a blissful moment, I look into your features,
And I repeat the hot words indistinctly ...
Until tomorrow you are mine ... with me until the morning you ...
———————————————————————————
***
On a dark threshold secretly
Saints whispering names.
I know: we are in the temple together,
You think: here you are alone ...
I listen to your sighs
In some unrealizable dream ...
Words about some kind of love ...
And god! dreams of me ...
All ghost - all sorrow - all lies!
I tremble and pray and whisper ...
Oh, if you flap your wings
I'll fly away with you forever! ..
———————————————————————————
***
I was slowly going crazy
At the door of the one I thirst for.
Spring day followed by darkness
And only kindled the thirst.
I cried, tired of passion,
And sullenly muffled the groans.
Already doubled, moving,
Mad, sick thought.
And penetrated the silence
My soul, already insane
And flooded my spring
A black and silent wave.
The spring day was replaced by darkness
Heart overwhelmed the grave.
I was slowly going crazy
I thought coldly of the sweetheart.
———————————————————————————
***
Spring breaks ice floes in the river,
And I'm not sorry for the dear dead:
Overcoming my peaks
I forgot the winter gorges
And I see a blue distance.
What to regret in the smoke of a fire
What to lament at the cross
When I'm waiting all the hour for a blow
Or a divine gift
From the Moses bush!
———————————————————————————
***
Weary, I was losing hope
Dark melancholy approached.
Clean clothes turned white
A quiet hand trembled.
“Are you here? The valley sank
In a hopeless, deep sleep ...
You came down, touched and sighed, -
Is Freedom Day tomorrow for me? " -
“I got off, I'll be with you until the morning,
At dawn I will leave your sleep
I will disappear without a trace, I will forget everything, -
You will wake up, set free again. "
———————————————————————————
***
Looking for strange and new on the pages
Old tried books
I dream about white birds that have disappeared
I feel the torn off moment.
I'm out of tune with a noisy life,
With a whisper, a cry, embarrassed
Chained motionless by a white dream
Towards the shore of later times.
You are white, imperturbable in the depths,
In life, it is strict and angry.
Secretly anxious and secretly loved
Virgo, Zarya, Kupina.
Lanita gleams at the golden-haired maidens,
Dawns are not eternal like dreams.
Thorns crown the humble and the wise
By the white fire of the Bush.
———————————————————————————
***
During the day I do things of vanity,
Turning on the lights in the evening
Hopelessly foggy - you
You're playing a game in front of me.
I love this lie, this shine
Your alluring girly outfit.
Eternal hubbub and street crackling,
Lanterns running away row.
I love and admire and wait
Iridescent paints and words.
I will come and go again
Into the depths of flowing dreams
How deceitful you are and how white you are!
I like white lies ...
Completing the day's business
I know you will come again in the evening.
———————————————————————————
***
I love tall cathedrals
Humbled soul, to visit,
Enter the gloomy choirs,
To disappear into the crowd of singers.
I'm afraid of my two-faced soul
And bury it carefully
Your image is devilish and wild
Into this very sacred armor.
In your superstitious prayer
Seeking protection from Christ.
But from behind a disingenuous mask
Deceitful lips laugh.
And quietly, with a changed face,
In the flicker of deathly candles,
I wake up the memory of Two-faced
In the hearts of praying people.
Here - the choirs shuddered, fell silent,
In confusion, they rushed to run.
I love tall cathedrals
Resigned soul to visit.
———————————————————————————
***
I'm fascinated by the silence
Here - on the road.
I'm mentally chained to you
In my melodious silence.
There the raven croaks high
And suddenly - in the azure he drowned
From the pale far away
An iron rumble arises.
Yesterday I heard your word
I broke up with you only yesterday
But the silence whispers to me again:
It's not time for us to meet.
Far from the bustling villages
Among the green silence
Recover lost dreams
Other, unrealizable disturbances.
———————————————————————————
***
I hear the bell. Spring is in the field.
You opened the cheerful windows.
The day laughed and faded. You followed alone
Clouds of pinkish fibers.
Laughter went down his face, but fell silent and disappeared.
What passed by and confused?
I'm leaving for the pinking forest.
You will forget how you forgave me.
April 1902
———————————————————————————
***
There was a house in the street,
And a steep staircase led into the darkness.
There the door opened, clinking glass,
The light ran out - and again the darkness wandered.
There in the twilight the door shed gleamed white
Under the signboard "Flowers", attached with a bolt.
There the hum of footsteps was lost and disappeared
On the stairs - by the light of a lamp with a zsoltom.
Up there the window looked down
Hanged by a motionless curtain
And, like a wrinkled forehead, the cornice
He gave a grimace to the wall - and gazes ...
There, in the twilight, the light in the windows trembled,
And there was singing, music and dancing.
And from the street - no words, no sounds, -
And only the glazes appeared.
Down the stairs above the gloomy courtyard
A shadow flickered, and the lamp was barely shining.
Suddenly the door opened, clinking glass,
The light ran out, and again the darkness wandered.
———————————————————————————
***
We met with you at sunset.
You crossed the bay with an oar.
I loved your White dress,
Falling out of love with the refinement of dreams.
The silent meetings were strange.
Ahead - on a sand spit
Evening candles lit up.
Someone thought of pale beauty.
Approaches, approaches, combustion
The azure calm does not accept ...
We met in the evening fog
Where there are ripples and reeds near the shore.
No longing, no love, no resentment,
Everything faded, passed, departed ..
White camp, the voices of the requiem
And your golden oar.
———————————————————————————
***
Mists hid you
And the voice itself was weak.
I remember these deceptions
I remember obedient slave.
You were crowned with a crown
More dawn whims.
I remember the steps of the throne
And your first severe trial.
What pale dresses!
What a strange silence!
And the lilies are full of hugs
And you look without a thought.
Who knows where it was?
Where did the Star fall?
What words did she say
Did you speak then?
But how could I not know
White river flower
And these pale dresses
And a strange, white hint?
———————————————————————————
***
Late. In the closed window
Bitter wisdom knocks.
All forgotten glee
Flew into the zenith.
Late. You will not deceive me.
Laugh, light shadow!
You will get tired of swimming in the sky -
Day will change in the evening.
Will be replaced by deathly boredom -
Your colors will fade ...
My wisdom is short-sighted,
My dark years!
———————————————————————————
***
When holy oblivion
Around the motionless silence, -
You look in quiet yearning
River spreading the reeds.
I am these green herbs
I also love on sleepy days.
Are not my hidden ones in them,
My golden lights?
You look quiet, strict,
Into the eyes of a past dream.
I chose a different path -
I go - and the songs are not the same ...
Soon the evening will come closer
And night - towards fate:
Then my path will tip over
And I will return to You.
———————————————————————————
***
You didn't leave. But maybe,
In its incomprehensible order
Could exhaust and overflow
Everything I love, earthly ...
And there is no parting harder:
You, like a rose, unrequited,
I sing, gray nightingale,
In my multicolored dungeon!
———————————————————————————
***
I wander within the walls of the monastery,
Joyless and dark monk.
The pale dawn breaks a little, -
I follow the flashing snowflakes.
Ah, the night is long, the dawn is pale
In our north, gloomy.
By the closed window
I indulge in stubborn thoughts.
The same snow is whiter
An intact and eternal robe.
And the ever-pale wax of candles,
And whitewashed cornices.
The coldness of these walls is strange to me
And poverty is incomprehensible to life.
Sleepy captivity scares me
And brothers deathly pallor.
The dawn is pale and the night of duty,
As a series of Matins and Lunches.
Ah, I myself am as pale as snow,
In a stubborn thought, my heart is poor ...
———————————————————————————
***
I open the shutters on rusty hinges
I inhale the first streams sweetly.
All the recent fog descended from the mountain
And, white, embraced my pastures.
It dawned there, but the sun did not rise.
I feel the expectation around.
Sleep without anxiety. Didn't wake you up
My dream, my serene friend.
I'm wide awake, brooding dreamer:
At the head of the bed, in a secret divination,
Your features, philosopher and sculptor,
I will portray and give it to you.
Someday in a moment of admiration
With him at the same time at the end of the day,
Giving him your image
You will say casually: "How he loved me!"
———————————————————————————
***
I buried you, and, longing,
I grew flowers on the grave
But in the azure, ringing and rejoicing,
Trembled, blessed, you.
And I leaned towards my native land,
And I wanted to go after you,
But as I sobbed and prayed
Your sonorous laugh flew to me.
Funeral tears are in vain
You are trembling, laughing, alive!
And grow on a beautiful grave
Not flowers - fire words!
———————————————————————————
***
Gone into the fog of dreams
Forgotten all the words.
All in a pink glow
The blue has risen.
Formidable clouds rushed away
And the rains fell.
Great, tearless! ..
Hope, believe and wait.
———————————————————————————
***
Breaking through with a melodious stream
I went into the silent azure
Disappeared into deep space
A distant dream of storms
We, forgotten in the wild country,
The poor lived, alien to tears,
Trembled, prayed on the rocks,
Have not seen burning roses.
Suddenly rushed to the north gloomy,
Appeared in unprecedented beauty
I called myself a mortal thought
Sun, moon and stars in a braid.
The clouds and worries are gone
Everything of life is in the sweet darkness,
The holy roads ran
As if the sky had returned to the earth.
And in our wild land
We have comprehended the burning of roses.
Evil thoughts and proud rocks -
Everything melted into a flame of tears.
———————————————————————————
To the death of grandfather
(July 1, 1902)
Together we waited for death or sleep.
Agonizing moments passed.
Suddenly a breeze smelled from the window,
The sheet of the Holy Book began to stir.
There the old man walked - already, like a harrier, gray-haired -
I walk vigorously, with cheerful eyes,
He laughed at us, and beckoned everything with his hand,
And he walked away with familiar steps.
And suddenly we all who were - both young and old -
We recognized him as the one in front of us,
And turning back in awe,
Found the dust with closed eyes ...
But it was sweet to keep track of the soul
And see the fun in the departing.
Our hour has come - to remember and love,
And celebrate a different housewarming.
S. Shakhmatovo
———————————————————————————
***
He who has a bride is a groom; and friend
the groom who stands and hears him,
rejoices with joy hearing the voice of the groom.
John, III, 29
I, boy, light candles,
Fire incense bank.
She is without thought and without speech
On that shore laughs.
I love evening prayer
By the white church over the river
Before sunset village
And the gloom is dull blue.
Submissive to a gentle look,
I admire the secret beauty
And beyond the church fence
Throwing white flowers.
The misty curtain will fall.
The groom will come down from the altar.
And from the tops of the jagged forest
The wedding dawn will break.
———————————————————————————
***
They spoke short speeches
Strange news was expected by nightfall.
Nobody came out to meet.
I stood alone at the door.
Many approached the house,
Screaming and crying out loud.
Everyone was unfamiliar to me
And I was not touched by their appearance.
Everyone was waiting for some news.
From the scraps of words I learned
Crazy raving about the bride
That someone was running.
And, ascending the hillock behind the garden,
Everyone looked into the blue distance.
And every feigned look
I tried to show sadness.
I didn’t leave the door alone
And he did not dare go in and ask.
It was sweet to know about the loss
But it's funny to talk about her.
So he stood alone - without alarm.
I looked at the mountains in the distance.
And there - on a steep road -
It was already swirling in red dust.
———————————————————————————
***
He ran down the mountain and froze in the thicket.
Lights flash around ...
How the heart beats - angrier and more often!
They will seek me before dawn.
Swamp fire is unknown to them.
My eyes are the eyes of an owl.
Let them run after me
Among the tangled grass.
My swamp will suck them in
The cloudy ring will close
And, capsized, will look
My white ghost in their face.
———————————————————————————
***
A summer day goes away like a dream.
And the summer evening is only dreaming.
Behind the laziness of distant villages
My reverie lurks.
I breathe and think and endure.
The bloody west is so wonderful.
I love this hour, like a dream,
And there is no strength to be afraid of songs.
I'm in front of you at this hour
In the dust of a woeful soul.
I'm creepy with a thunderous song
Under this stormy cloud.
———————————————————————————
***
I'm young and fresh and in love
I am in anxiety, in anguish and in supplication,
Green, mysterious maple,
Invariably inclined towards you.
A warm wind will pass over the sheets
Trunks will tremble from prayer,
On a face turned to the stars
Fragrant tears of praise.
You will come under a wide tent
On these pale sleepy days
Look at the cute dress
Dream in the green shade.
You are alone, in love with me,
I whisper a mysterious dream.
And until the night - with longing, with you,
I am with you, green maple.
———————————————————————————
***
The cold of the evenings is terrible
Their wind beating in alarm
Non-existent steps
Disturbing rustle on the road.
Cold line of dawn -
Like a memory close to ailment
AND sure sign that we are inside
An unbreakable circle.
———————————————————————————
***
The light in the window staggered
In the twilight - one -
Whispering at the entrance
Harlequin with darkness.
Was shrouded in mist
White and red outfit
Upstairs - behind the wall -
Jester's masquerade.
There the face was covered
Into a multi-colored lie
But in the hand they recognized
Inevitable trembling.
"He" - with a wooden sword
I drew letters.
Delighted with the strange
She looked down.
Not believing in admiration,
With darkness - one -
At the brooding door
The harlequin laughed.
———————————————————————————
***
To you, to you, from another light,
My Friend, my Angel, my Law!
Forgive the mad poet
He will not return to you.
I was mad and sad
I've tempted my fate
I am stung by a golden dream
And tea of the sacrament in the coffin.
You shone for me from the night
I took away from a poor life,
You downcast your eyes
You have accepted my muse.
———————————————————————————
***
Without Me, your dreams would fly away
Into the desolate misty heights
Remember the evening gave
On a quiet tower, child, knock.
I live above jagged land
Supper in my house.
Come, I will calm you down
Honey, honey, I will hug you.
I left in the snow with no return,
But, spinning cold whirlwinds,
On the line of a fiery sunset
I have inscribed the Name, child ...
August 1902
———————————————————————————
***
Into a foreign land on humming steel
I fly, barely recovering,
And, believing the promises they gave,
I repeat yesterday's words.
Now I know: somewhere in the world,
Beyond the stone roads
At the terrible, at the last feast
God is preparing a meeting for us.
And we will not admire for long
For these local feasts:
Before us, secrets will be laid bare
New worlds will shine.
August 1902
———————————————————————————
***
The golden valley
You leave, dumb and wild.
The crane is melting in the sky
A receding scream.
Through the transparent fibers
The sun, not melting light,
Strikes idly through the blind windows
Empty housing.
For smart clothes
Autumn gave the sun
Flying hopes
Inspirational warmth.
———————————————————————————
***
I went out into the night - find out, understand
To accept nonexistent,
The road is white under the moon
It seemed full of steps.
There only someone's shadow wandered
And sank behind the hills.
And I listened - and heard:
Among the shivering moon spots
Far away, the horse galloped loudly,
And a slight whistle was understandable.
And now, the ringing of hooves is heard,
And the white horse rushes towards me ...
And it became clear who was silent
And laughs on an empty saddle.
I went out into the night - find out, understand
A distant rustle, a close murmur,
To accept nonexistent,
Believe in an imaginary horse stomp.
———————————————————————————
***
I've been walking under the windows for a long time,
But I saw her only once.
I follow the fibers in the sky
And I think: the day is out.
For a long time I have been thinking sad
I gave everything for a sweet dream.
But I whisper a goodbye song
And I think: where is he?
She curtains the window -
Isn't a cute eye looking?
But heart, heart is not fun
I've only seen her once.
The autumn sky went out
And the pink sky.
And I count the moments
And I think: where is the dream?
———————————————————————————
***
In the city the bell was beating
Late glorifying dreams.
I went away and prayed
Where you have seen.
Listening to the call of the Gentile,
Breathing in the late days
The heart beat as before,
The soul did not change.
Everything went away, changed
Whispers about my soul ...
You are only One kept
His Ancient Secret.
———————————————————————————
***
I woke up and got up
To the window on the dark steps.
The frosty month was silver
My hushed canopy.
There has been no news for a long time
But the city brought me sounds
And every day I waited for guests
And listened to rustles and knocks.
And at midnight he shuddered more than once,
And, awakened by the steps,
I went up to the window - and saw the gas,
Chains shimmered in the streets.
Today I'm waiting for my guests
I flinch and squeeze my hands.
I haven't had any news for a long time
But there were rustles and knocks.
———————————————————————————
Ecclesiastes
Blessing the light and shadow
And having fun playing the lyre,
Look there - into peaceless chaos,
Where is your day going.
Whole silver chain
Yours are filled with jugs,
Almonds bloom at the bottom of the valley
And the steppe breathes damp heat.
You go to the house on the mountains
Drenched in the midday sun,
You go - the bandage is golden
Drowning in resinous hair.
Caper flowers withered away,
And now - the grasshopper is getting heavy,
And horror blows on the road
And the heights were darkened.
Grind tired millstones.
The frightened guards are running
And everyone is embraced by the ghost of the enemy,
And the trees must bend.
Everything is confused by wild fear.
People and animals crowded in a heap.
And in vain they close the doors
Dosel looking out the window.
———————————————————————————
***
She is slim and tall
Always haughty and harsh.
I am every day from afar
I followed her, ready for anything.
I knew the clock when it would come down
She - and with her the gleam is shaky.
And like a villain, around the corner
I ran after her, playing hide and seek.
Yellow lights flashed
And electric candles.
And he met her in the shadows
And I watched and sang their meetings.
When, suddenly confused,
They had a presentiment of something
I was hidden in the depths
Blind dark gate.
And I, invisible to everyone,
The man's profile was rough,
Her silvery black fur
And something whispering lips.
———————————————————————————
***
It was late and crimson evening,
The harbinger star has risen.
A new voice cried over the abyss -
The Virgo gave birth to a baby.
And there was a sign and a miracle:
In the calm silence
Judas arose among the crowd
In a cold mask, on a horse.
Masters full of care
They sent a message to all ends,
And on the lips of Iscariot
The messengers saw the smile.
———————————————————————————
Old man
In old age, forgetting the sacred,
I live by dry attention.
Once - there - there were two of us,
But then in a dream - not in reality.
I look at the pale autumn color
My memory is whispering about something ...
But how can you believe the shadows
Flashed in a youthful dream?
Was it all, or was it imagined?
In the hours of oblivion of old wounds
Sometimes I dreamed for a long time
A dream that disappeared into fog.
But silly tales I do not believe,
Sick, under the yoke of gray hair.
Let another find the doors
Which are not destined for me.
———————————————————————————
***
They had fun in the yellow light,
All night, a circle closed by the walls,
The rows of dancers doubled
And he dreamed of a persistent friend.
Desire lifted her breasts
Heat reflected on their faces.
I passed with a dream of a miracle,
Induced by the lust of a stranger ...
It seemed that there, behind a haze of dust,
Hiding in the crowd, someone lived
And strange eyes followed
And the voice sang and spoke ...
September 1902
———————————————————————————
***
He appeared at a slender ball
In a brilliantly closed circle.
The ominous lights blinked
And the gaze was describing an arc.
Spinning all night in a noisy dance
All night long, a circle closed by the walls.
And at dawn - in the window gloss
A friend appeared silent.
He got up and raised his owl gaze,
And he looks - intent - alone,
Where behind pale Columbine
The ringing Harlequin was running.
And there - in the corner - under the images.
In a motley crowd,
Rolling with children's eyes
The deceived Pierrot trembles.
———————————————————————————
***
Freedom looks into the blue.
The window is open. The air is harsh.
For the yellow-red foliage
It takes a month period.
He will be at night - a light sickle,
Glittering in the harvest of the night.
Its sunset, its damage
It caresses the eyes for the last time.
How pale is the moon in the blue,
How thin hair turns golden ...
How it sways in the foliage
Forgotten, faded, dead ear.
———————————————————————————
***
He left, disappeared into the night,
Nobody knows where.
There are keys on the table
There is an indication of the footprint in the table.
And who thought then
That he won't come home?
The night ride died down -
He was betrothed to his Wife.
On the white cold snow
He killed his heart.
And I thought that with her in the meadow
He walked among the white lilies.
Here is the morning light
But he is still not at home.
The bride waits in vain
He was, but he will not come.
———————————————————————————
Religio
I loved tender words.
I was looking for mysterious inflorescences.
And, barely seeing his sight,
He also made noise, like children in games.
But, going out into the meadow in the morning,
Solidifying indistinct tunes,
I knew You, my eternal friend,
You, Virgo Guardian.
I knew, a brooding poet,
That no one knew a genius
Freedom like a vow
Of my slave ministries.
A silent ghost in a chamber
I am a black slave to cursed blood.
I observe the semi-darkness
In Her untouched alcove.
I guard Her keys
And with Her I am present, invisible.
When swords cross
For the beauty of the Unattainable.
———————————————————————————
Religio - piety (lat.)
***
I enter dark temples,
I am performing a poor rite.
There I am waiting for the Beautiful Lady
In the flicker of red lamps.
In the shadow of a tall pillar
Trembling from the creak of doors.
And he looks into my face, illuminated,
Only an image, only a dream about Her.
Oh, I'm used to these vestments
The Great Eternal Wife!
Run high on the cornices
Smiles, fairy tales and dreams.
Oh Saint, how sweet the candles are,
How gratifying are Your features!
I hear no sighs, no speech,
But I believe: Sweetheart - You.
———————————————————————————
***
There will be a day, like a moment of fun.
We will forget all the names.
You yourself will come to my cell
And wake me up from my sleep.
On the face, embraced by a shiver,
You will guess my thoughts.
But everything the same will become a lie
Your Rays will be a little busy.
Like then, with a silent smile
You will read on my brow
About unfaithful and unsteady love,
About the love that bloomed on earth.
But then - grander and more beautiful,
I will take no doubts and thoughts.
And I will exhaust the cup to the bottom,
Participant in Thy Day.
———————————————————————————
***
He was greeted everywhere
On the streets on sleepy days.
He walked and carried his miracle
Stumbling in the frosty shadow
I entered my quiet cell,
Lit the last light
I put the lamp on with fun
And a lush bouquet of lilies.
They marveled at him with laughter,
They said he was an eccentric.
He thought about a fur coat
And again he was hiding in the darkness.
Once he was carried off,
He was cheerful and happy
And in the morning they laid them in a coffin,
And the priest served quietly.
October 1902
———————————————————————————
***
Secret signs flare up
On a blank, impenetrable wall
Gold and red poppies
They weigh me over in my sleep.
I hide in the night caves
And I don't remember the harsh miracles.
At dawn - blue chimeras
Looking in the mirror of bright skies.
I'm running away into the past moments
I close my eyes from fear
On the sheets of a cold book -
Golden maiden braid.
The sky above me is already low
Black sleep weighs heavily in the chest.
My destined end is near
Both war and fire are ahead.
October 1902
———————————————————————————
***
I'm scared to meet you.
It is more terrible not to meet you.
I began to wonder at everything
I caught the seal on everything.
Shadows walk down the street
I don’t understand - they live, or they sleep ...
Clung to the church steps,
I'm afraid to look back.
They put their hands on my shoulders
But I don't remember the names.
There are sounds in my ears
The recent big funeral.
And the gloomy sky is low -
The temple itself was also covered.
I know - You are here. You are close.
You are not here. Are you there.
———————————————————————————
***
Houses grow like desires
But look back suddenly:
Where there was a white building
You will see a black stench.
This is how all things change place
They go up inconspicuously.
You, Orpheus, have lost your bride, -
Who whispered to you - "Look around ..."?
I'll cover my head in white
I will scream and throw myself into the stream.
And it will float, swing over the body
Fragrant river flower.
Analysis of the cycle "Poems about a Beautiful Lady" by Blok
"Poems about a Beautiful Lady" is the first collection of poetry by A. Blok, which includes more than a hundred poems written in 1901-1902. They were written by the poet under the influence of love for his future wife - L. Mendeleeva. The poems are arranged in strict chronological order, a specific place of writing is often indicated.
Block was one of the brightest representatives symbolism. Although his collection is based on a real "earthly" feeling, it describes a hazy sublime image. At that time, the poet was fond of the teachings of the philosopher V. Solovyov, especially his idea of the Eternal Femininity. In the poems of this cycle, Blok very rarely “sinks to the ground”. The beloved woman is described in the image of an ethereal world soul, personifying the simultaneous Wife, Mother, Friend. Practically nowhere are specific physical signs beloved. The "Lady of the Universe" is outlined only by color shades ("your azure") and obscure sounds ("distant steps").
V early age The bloc was generally against carnal relationships. He perceived love for a woman as an eternal and unconditional admiration for an unattainable ideal. This mystical feeling can only be described using secret symbols, hints, halftones.
Many of the collection's poems contain religious symbols. This also shows the influence on the poet V. Solovyov. Blok idealizes the earthly feeling, equates it with the divine. Love becomes a phenomenon of a cosmic scale.
The Beautiful Lady of Blok is a supreme being. She possesses immortality, infinite wisdom and universal knowledge. Her thoughts and actions are inaccessible to a mere mortal. The poet considers his love to be divine worship, eternal knightly service. Blok receives further development medieval image of the Beautiful Lady. He is even more distant from everything earthly. The physical appearance of a woman fades into the background. A mysterious image created in the imagination becomes the main thing.
Blok's idealistic ideas were realized in his life. The poet was perceived as a person completely divorced from reality. L. Mendeleeva was subdued by his knightly admiration and agreed to the marriage. However, she was quickly disappointed. The poet continued to hover in the clouds. He did not recognize rough sensual relationships and continued to treat the real wife as a non-existent image.
"Poems about the Beautiful Lady" reflect the most sincere feelings and experiences of Blok. The first mystical collection brought the poet great fame. The works included in it are surprisingly lyrical and capable of captivating the reader.
In 1904, Alexander Blok first published Poems about the Beautiful Lady. An analysis carried out by researchers of his work shows that this is the first serious collection of the poet's poems. He immediately singled out Alexander Alexandrovich among other artists of the word. In our article we will analyze the Beautiful Lady "- one of the best creations of Alexander Alexandrovich.
Feeling for L. Mendeleeva
The cycle of interest to us was created under the influence of the feelings that Blok had for Lyubov Mendeleeva, who in the future became his wife. Boblovo, the Mendeleevs' estate, was located near Shakhmatov, the family estate of Alexander Alexandrovich. Thanks to this, he could often see his future wife. In the photo below - Blok with L. Mendeleeva.
The influence of the teachings of V. Solovyov
The collection of interest to us was also created under the influence of V. Solovyov's doctrine of eternal femininity. According to this philosopher, the Eternal Feminine can reconcile the heavenly and the earthly, the divine and the mundane. Thanks to her, the soul of the poet is renewed. The feeling that A. Blok felt for L. Mendeleeva was reinterpreted by Alexander Alexandrovich in the spirit of the teachings about the world soul of Plato and about the Eternal Femininity, acting as the incorruptible divine principle.
Soloviev's position fully corresponds to the opinion of Blok of this period. The philosopher views Eternal Femininity as a phenomenon of cosmic proportions. The poet also sees in his beloved the embodiment of the divine principle. We can judge this by the letters addressed to Lyubov Mendeleeva. These views of Alexander Alexandrovich determined the general nature of his poetic cycle entitled "Poems about the Beautiful Lady". The heroine of the cycle is a mystical, incomprehensible image ("Saint," Virgin "," Incomprehensible "). Sometimes she is a real woman who has specific features: tall, slender, always haughty and stern.
Mystical halo
The collection is marked with a mystical halo; it makes it possible to notice that the feeling of unreality of everything that is happening is reinforced by poetic epithets, such as in a quiet backwater, unknown shadows, a white dress. They surround the author's feeling with a mystical halo. The love of the lyric hero turns into the poetry of halftones, symbols, hints. This feeling is a state of mind. It simultaneously makes the lyrical hero feel and captivates him. Alexander Alexandrovich turns to a symbol that transfers perception from the world of real-concrete things into a mysterious, incomprehensible, vaguely guessed world. This view of art determined the general symbolic character of the cycle of interest to us.
"The girl sang in the church choir ..."
Let's turn to this poem, conducting a general about the Beautiful Lady "- a cycle, one of the most famous works which it is. filled with the following symbols: "white dress", "white shoulder" and a shining ray on it, "a voice flying into the dome." In this work, the epithet "white" emphasizes the feeling of pacification, peace, silence, emanating from the voice of the heroine, which is characterized as "flying into the dome." The girl sings about ships that have gone to sea, about people who find themselves in a foreign land, about those who have forgotten their joy. The ending of this poem is mystical. It does not leave us feeling happy at all. Blok writes that the child "involved in secrets" cried that no one would return back.
"I enter dark temples ..."
Let's continue Blok. "Poems about a Beautiful Lady" - a cycle in which many interesting works... One of them is "I come in ...". This creation of Alexander Alexandrovich was created in 1902. It is the central work of the cycle "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" (Blok). Analysis of the poems included in it reveals some interesting features... In particular, in the work we are considering, the lyrical hero only imagines the image of the "Eternal Wife", the stately Beautiful Lady. This is the symbol true love... At the same time, the lyrical hero is waiting for a meeting with Mila, and is also afraid of his own feelings.
Cycle "Crossroads"
The cycle "Crossroads", created in the period from 1902 to 1904, closes the book "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" (Blok). Analysis of it makes it possible to notice that it seems to stand apart from other works of the book. In these poems by Blok, the motive of confusion and anxiety arises. The lyrical hero has thoughts that in real life finding harmony is impossible. The author's attention switches to his contemporary reality. He depicts a real city, he is interested in the mysticism of passion and nature.
"Trilogy of Incarnation"
The first volume of this cycle consists mainly of "Poems about the Beautiful Lady". Blok, whose poems are analyzed by many researchers in our time, independently prepared his collection for publication. He distributed it among 3 books, uniting them under the title "Trilogy of Incarnation". At the same time, other topics are outlined in the first volume. This is a connection with "everyday life", social issues ("From newspapers", "A child is crying ...", "Factory", etc.). The motive of "the end of the world" arises, as the analysis of Blok's poems shows. "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" is filled with new motives. Full of shadows, werewolves, ghosts, the modern city reminds the reader of a picture of the Apocalypse. The crying child turns out to be of no use to anyone, women are thrown out of the windows ... Despite the fact that these poems contain an abundance of realistic details, the author still retains their symbolist essence. In the work "Factory" black and yellow colors("black someone", "windows are yellow", etc.) symbolize the essence of people who are endowed with money and power. They turn out to be spiritless. A poet who hears everything "from his peak" does not participate in what is happening.
So, we have briefly described "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" (Blok). You can supplement our analysis with your own reflections, since we have noted only the main features of this cycle.
Each person, to one degree or another, is characterized by a sense of beauty, a striving for beauty. At all times, the personification of this was a woman, as we can judge from ancient myths and legends. A special cult of women and ladies took shape in the Middle Ages, in the era of chivalry. Let us recall Don Quixote, who, in the name of his Dulcinea, did all sorts of different, sometimes fantastic and ridiculous deeds. The great Dante and Petrarch immortalized the images of their beloved Beatrice and Laura in sublime, enthusiastic verses.
In Russian poetry silver age the cult of women was embodied primarily in the poetry and philosophy of Vladimir Solovyov. In his view, the woman personified the image of the World Soul, the Eternal Wife, Sophia the Wise, was a symbol of harmony, reason, love and beauty. The cult of Eternal Femininity was further developed in the work of Alexander Blok, for whom Vladimir Solovyov became a spiritual teacher. It is Blok who owns the unusually lyrical and tender poems about the Beautiful Lady.
Alexander Blok made his debut in poetry as a traditional romantic, and in his early poems the corresponding motives sounded: alienation from the crowd, disappointment in life, disbelief in happiness. And suddenly, in the darkness of disbelief, blindness, She appears - "clear", "radiant", "illuminated", "golden". Blok describes it in the same way that icon painters usually depict the Mother of God surrounded by radiance. At the same time, a real, completely earthly woman, Lyubov Dmitrievna Mendeleeva, became the prototype of the Beautiful Lady.
At first glance, there is nothing in common between the "heavenly" Mother of God and the "earthly" beloved of the poet. But in his view, there is a connection between them, and this connection is mystical. Just like the romantic poets, Blok recreates the image real woman in accordance with his ideal, turning her into a Beautiful Lady, into a Madonna. The poet himself (the lyrical hero) appears before us, according to J. Eichenwald's definition, "a knight and a pilgrim."
He foresees the Mother of God, walks "in the footsteps of her blue paths", breaking ties with reality and being transported into a completely different world - the world of "dreams and fogs", the world of dreams. Blok called the cycle of poems about the Beautiful Lady "the closed book of being", which reflected a journey through the "lands of the soul" at the "early morning dawn." "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" convey a special - prayerful - state of mind of the hero (author), a state of inner contemplation. The lyrical hero of Blok contains the whole Universe, his soul is equal in size to the Universe:
I don't care - the universe is in me ...
Blok contrasts this ideal world with the real one. It is in the realm of the ideal that he seeks salvation from the vulgarity and roughness of earthly existence:
I am looking for salvation.
My lights burn on the heights of the mountains -
The whole area was lit up at night.
But the brightest of all is the spiritual gaze in me
And You are far away.
The Beautiful Lady is the undivided ruler of the poet's soul, the motive of insight is associated with her ("I am here at the end, full of insight"); she opens the way for him to comprehend Eternity, being her messenger:
I'm just waiting for a conditional vision
To fly off into another void ...
In many poems of the cycle, the image of the Beautiful Lady is disembodied, unsteady, barely perceptible, perceived not so much by sight (internal) as by hearing (also internal):
The wind has brought from afar
Your sonorous songs ...
Thus, the Beautiful Lady becomes a connecting link between the earthly (alien) and heavenly (native) worlds. We see that the lyrical hero values little earthly attributes - with all his being, he strives upward. Let us turn to the poem "I Enter Dark Temples". The whole poem is imbued with a solemn mood, the hero is waiting for a meeting with her "in the flickering of red lamps." As you know, red is the color of fire and passion. The soul of the awaiting appearance of the Beautiful Lady is filled with this passion: "I tremble from the creak of doors." He desperately wants to see Her, but he knows that this is impossible:
And the illuminated one looks in my face
Only an image, only a dream about Her.
This invisible presence is dearer to the hero than the real one. Moreover, he is afraid of a real meeting, which allows us to speak, for example, the line from the poem "I Feel You":
But I am afraid: you will change your appearance.
The poet understands that the earthly embodiment of a dream is impossible without destroying the ideal.
As you can see, in the image of the Beautiful Lady there are more heavenly than earthly features: he seems sublime, absolutely inaccessible and incomprehensible. And yet the earthly is present in him. This is indicated by the appeal to Her on "you", earthly epithets ("sweetheart"), some features that make her appearance visible: "virgin robe", "white dress", "pale beauty". In some poems, the poet's image of the heroine fits into a real earthly landscape:
We met you at sunset
You crossed the bay with an oar.
For all his striving upward, the lyrical hero of Blok cannot completely break with the earth. Moreover, he begins to feel weary about this gap, strives to "overcome dreams and fogs" in the name of gaining reality. That is why Blok called "Poems about the Beautiful Lady" the beginning of the "trilogy of incarnation."
Introduction
The rest is in vain. The road is steep.
The evening is beautiful. I knock on the gate.
The long knock is alien and strict,
You scatter pearls around.
The tower is high, and the dawn froze.
The red secret at the entrance lay.
Who set fire to the tower at the dawn,
What did the Princess Herself erect?
Each ridge on a patterned thread
Red flame throws towards you.
The dome tends to the azure heights.
The blue windows lit up with a blush.
All the bells are buzzing.
The sunsetless outfit will flood in the spring.
Have you been waiting for me at the sunsets?
Did you light the tower? Opened the gate?
I went out. Went slowly
To the land of the twilight of winter.
The younger days were
Came trustingly from the darkness ...
They came and stood behind their shoulders,
And sang with the wind about spring ...
And with quiet steps I walked
Spending eternity in the depths ..
Oh, the best days were alive!
To your song from deep
Twilight descended on the ground
And dreams rose up for eternity! ..
The wind has brought from afar
Songs of spring hint,
Somewhere light and deep
A patch of sky opened.
In this bottomless azure
In the twilight of the approaching spring
Winter storms were crying
Starry dreams were floating.
Timid, dark and deep
My strings were crying.
The wind has brought from afar
Your sonorous songs.
Quiet evening shadows
The snow is falling in blue.
Host of discordant visions
Your ashes have been disturbed.
You sleep behind the distant plain
Sleeping in a blanket of snow ...
Songs of your swan
Sounds seemed to me.
A voice calling alarmingly
An echo in the cold snows ...
Is it possible to be resurrected?
Is the past not dust?
No, from the house of God
Immortal spirit
Came out dear and familiar
To disturb my ears with songs.
Host of grave visions
Sounds of living voices ...
Quiet evening shadows
The blues touched the snow.
The soul is silent. In the cold sky
All the same stars are burning for her.
All around about gold or about bread
The noisy peoples are screaming ...
She is silent - and hears the screams,
And he sees distant worlds
But alone two-faced
Prepares wonderful gifts
He prepares gifts to his gods
And, anointed, in silence,
He catches with tireless hearing
The distant call of another soul ...
So white birds over the ocean
Unseparated hearts
They sound like a call behind the fog
They understand only to the end.
You retreat into the scarlet twilight,
In endless circles.
I heard a small echo,
Distant steps.
Are you near or far
Lost in the air?
Wait or there is no sudden meeting
In this resounding silence?
They sound stronger in silence
Distant steps
Do you close, flaming,
Endless circles?
On a cold day, on an autumn day
I will go back there again
Remember this spring sigh,
To see the past image.
I will come and I will not pay
Remembering, I will not burn out.
Meet a song at random
The dawn of a new autumn.
Evil time laws
Lull the mournful spirit.
Past howl, past moans
If you don’t hear it, I’m extinguished.
The very fire is blind eyes
Will not burn with a dream of the past.
The very day is darker than the night
Lulled by the soul
So - we parted at dawn.
A. B.
All earthly dreams fly away,
Alien countries are getting closer.
The countries are cold, dumb
And without love, and without spring.
There - far away, opening the pupils,
Visions of loved ones
Enter new dungeons
And they look at them indifferently.
There - the mother of the son does not recognize,
Passionate hearts will go out ...
There is hopelessly fading away
My wanderings are endless ...
And suddenly, on the threshold of imprisonment,
I will hear distant footsteps ...
You are lonely in the distance
You will close the last circles ...
Before sunset
Among the centuries-old trees
I love unfaithful beauties
Your eyes and your words.
Goodbye, there is a shadow in the night
The night is as short as a spring dream
But I know - tomorrow is a new day
And a new law for you.
Do not delirium, you are not a forest ghost,
But the old man did not know fairies
With such unfaithful eyes
With such a changeable soul!
All being and existence is in accordance
In great, unceasing silence.
Look there sympathetically, indifferently, -
I don't care - the universe is in me.
I feel and I believe and I know
The seer cannot be deceived by sympathy.
I am in myself with abundance I enclose
All those lights that you burn.
But there is no more weakness, no more strength,
The past, the future is in me.
All being and existence is frozen
In great, unchanging silence.
I'm here at the end full of insight
I've crossed the line.
I'm just waiting for a conditional vision
To fly off into another void.
Someone whispers and laughs
Through the azure mist.
Only in silence will I feel sad
Laughter from lovely countries again!
Again a whisper - and in a whisper
Someone's caress, as in a dream,
In someone's feminine breath
It can be seen forever joy to me!
Whisper, laugh, honey
Sweet image, gentle dream;
You are a stranger, apparently, by force
Endowed and elated.
On a white night the month is red
Floats up in the blue.
The ghostly beautiful wanders
Reflected in the Neva.
I see and dream
Execution of secret thoughts.
Is there good in you,
Red month, quiet noise?
Heavenly is not measurable by the mind,
Azure is hidden from the minds.
Only occasionally do the seraphim bring
A sacred dream for the chosen ones of the worlds.
And I dreamed of Russian Venus,
In the heavy tunic of the povita,
Impassive in purity, joyless without measure,
There is a calm dream in the facial features.
This is not the first time she came down to earth
But they crowd around her for the first time
The heroes are not the same, and the knights are different ...
And the shine of her deep eyes is strange ...
They sound, they rejoice
Never getting tired
They triumph over the victory
They are blissful forever.
Who will keep track of the surrounding ringing,
Who will feel even a brief moment
My endless in the secret bosom,
My harmonic language?
May my freedom be alien to everyone
Let me be a stranger to everyone, in my garden
Nature is ringing and raging.
I am an accomplice to her in everything!
Lonely, I come to you
Bewitched by the fires of love
You are wondering. - Don't call me -
I myself have been saints for a long time.
From the heavy burden of years
I was saved by one fortune-teller,
And again I tell fortunes over you,
But the answer is unclear and confused.
Heavenly full days
I cherish years - do not call ...
Only soon will the lights go out
Enchanted dark love?
And the heavy sleep of everyday consciousness
You will shake off, longing and loving.
Vl. Soloviev
I have a presentiment of you. The years pass by -
All in one guise I foresee You.
The entire horizon is on fire - and unbearably clear,
And silently I wait - longing and loving.
The entire horizon is on fire, and the appearance is near,
But I'm scared: you will change your appearance,
And you will boldly arouse suspicion
Changing the usual features at the end.
Oh, how I fall - both sad and low,
Not having overcome the deadly dreams!
How clear is the horizon! And radiance is near.
But I am afraid: you will change your appearance.
And it's too late to wish
Everything has passed: both happiness and sorrow.
Vl. Soloviev
Don't be angry and forgive me. You bloom lonely
Yes, and I will not return
These golden dreams, this deep faith ...
Hopeless is my way.
Blooming with sleepy thoughts, you bliss a lot,
You are strong with azure.
I have a different life and a different road,
And the soul has no time for sleep.
Believe - more unfortunate than my young worship
Not in a vast country
Where your mysterious genius breathed and loved,
Indifferent to me.
Behind the fog, beyond the forests
Lights up - disappears
I'm driving on wet fields -
It will flash again from afar.
So by the lights
Late at night, across the river
Over sad meadows
We are meeting with You.
But even at night there is no answer
You will go into the river reeds
Taking away the light source
Beckoning again from afar.
Young in idleness, in laziness before dawn
The soul soared upward, and there it found the Star.
The evening was foggy, shadows fell softly.
The Evening Star waited silently.
Unperturbed, on the dark steps
You entered, and, Silent, surfaced.
And a wobbly dream in dawn laziness
She transferred herself to the star paths.
And the night passed with a fog of dreams.
And a timid youth with dreams without number.
And dawn is coming. And the shadows run away.
And, Clear, You flowed with the sun.
Today you walked alone
I have not seen Your miracles.
There, over your high mountain,
The jagged forest stretched.
And this forest, close together,
And these mountain paths
They prevented me from merging with the unknown,
Blossom with your azure.
Heed the call of a vague life,
Splashing secretly in me
Thoughts are false and momentary
Nor will I give myself up in a dream.
Waiting for the waves - passing waves
To the radiant depth.
I follow a little, bowing my knees,
Gentle in sight, quiet in heart,
Floating shadows
Of worldly affairs
Amid visions, dreams,
Voices of other worlds.
Transparent, unknown shadows
They float to You, and you float with them,
Into the arms of azure dreams
Indistinct to us - You give Yourself.
Before You turn blue without border
Seas, fields, and mountains, and forests,
The birds echo in the free heights,
The fog rises, the skies turn red.
And here, below, in the dust, in humiliation,
Seeing for a moment the immortal features
Unknown slave, full of inspiration
Singing to you. You do not know him,
You will not distinguish him in a crowd of people,
You will not reward him with a smile,
When he looks after him, not free,
Having tasted for a moment Your immortality.
I'm waiting for a call, looking for an answer
The sky grows numb, the earth in silence,
Behind a yellow cornfield - somewhere far away -
For a moment my appeal woke up.
I wait - and a new thrill embraces.
The sky is getting brighter, silence is deeper ...
The word will destroy the night's secret ...
Have mercy, God, night souls!
For a moment I woke up behind a cornfield, somewhere,
A distant echo of my appeal.
I'm still waiting for the call, looking for an answer,
But the silence of the earth strangely lasts.
