Alexander Alexandrovich Blok
Worlds are flying. The years fly by. Empty
The Universe looks at us with dark eyes.
And you, soul, tired, deaf,
You keep talking about happiness - how many times?
What’s happiness? Evening coolness
In a darkening garden, in the wilderness?
Or dark, vicious pleasures
Wine, passions, destruction of the soul?
What’s happiness? A short moment and cramped,
Oblivion, sleep and rest from worries...
You wake up - crazy again, unknown
And a heart-grabbing flight...
He sighed and looked - the danger had passed...
But at this very moment - another push!
Launched somewhere, haphazardly,
The top is flying, buzzing, hurrying!
And, clinging to the sliding, sharp edge,
And always listening to the buzzing ringing, -
Are we going crazy in the change of motley
Invented reasons, spaces, times...
When is the end? An annoying sound
He won’t have the strength to listen without rest...
How scary everything is! How wild! - Give me your hand,
Comrade, friend! Let's forget again.
Blok actively worked on the “Scary World” cycle from 1909 to 1916. The poet paints a “terrible world” as a kingdom of social injustice and evil. The series of poems reflected the state of Russia between two revolutions, Russia living in anticipation of a catastrophe. A person existing in such an environment sooner or later becomes a toy dark forces. Wild passions begin to fill his soul. They are able to provide negative influence even for such a bright feeling as love. Under their influence, she is destined to turn into a destructive passion. Blok depicts his contemporary reality, with emphasis placed on pictures of city life. In the cycle, the readers are presented with the inhabitants of earthly hell, as well as the living dead and demons. “A terrible world” in the understanding of Alexander Alexandrovich is a concept that also applies to the soul of the lyrical hero. She was almost dead, incredibly tired. There are no options for salvation from internal disharmony in Blok’s poetry.
In 1912, the poem “Worlds Fly By” was written. The years fly by. Empty...”, included in the “Scary World” series. Two stanzas of the text are entirely devoted to reflections on fundamental topic: “What is happiness?” In the second quatrain, the lyrical hero asks rhetorical questions. Is it possible to find happiness in unity with nature? Or is it better to plunge into wicked pleasures, giving preference to wine, passions and the destruction of the soul? The third stanza says that happiness is “oblivion, sleep and rest from worries.” Naturally, it doesn't last long. As soon as a person returns to reality, the “crazy, unknown and heart-grabbing flight” begins again. Next, the motif of the fatal cycle of life, important for the entire cycle, arises. The course of human existence is likened to a top launched “somewhere at random.” It would seem that the danger has passed, but literally a moment later a new test appears. People don't see peace in " scary world" The block is specified rhetorical question: “When will it end?” But there is no way out of the hellish cycle. In the final to the lyrical hero All that remains is to forget yourself in the company of a comrade, at least for some time, even if this forgetting is illusory. The poet also speaks about the fatal cycle of life in another poem from 1912 - in the famous miniature “Night. Street. Flashlight. Pharmacy…". By the way, it is included in the same sub-cycle together with the work “Worlds Fly. The years fly by. Empty..." - "Dances of Death".
“Worlds are flying. The years fly by. Empty..." Alexander Blok
Worlds are flying. The years fly by. Empty
The Universe looks at us with dark eyes.
And you, soul, tired, deaf,
You keep talking about happiness - how many times?What’s happiness? Evening coolness
In a darkening garden, in the wilderness?
Or dark, vicious pleasures
Wine, passions, destruction of the soul?What’s happiness? A short moment and cramped,
Oblivion, sleep and rest from worries...
You wake up - crazy again, unknown
And a heart-grabbing flight...He sighed and looked - the danger had passed...
But at this very moment - another push!
Launched somewhere, haphazardly,
The top is flying, buzzing, hurrying!And, clinging to the sliding, sharp edge,
And always listening to the buzzing ringing, -
Are we going crazy in the change of motley
Invented reasons, spaces, times...When is the end? An annoying sound
He won’t have the strength to listen without rest...
How scary everything is! How wild! - Give me your hand,
Comrade, friend! Let's forget again.
Analysis of Blok’s poem “Worlds are flying. The years fly by. Empty..."
Blok actively worked on the “Scary World” cycle from 1909 to 1916. The poet paints a “terrible world” as a kingdom of social injustice and evil. The series of poems reflected the state of Russia between two revolutions, Russia living in anticipation of a catastrophe. A person existing in such an environment sooner or later becomes a plaything of dark forces. Wild passions begin to fill his soul. They can have a negative impact even on such a bright feeling as love. Under their influence, she is destined to turn into a destructive passion. Blok depicts his contemporary reality, with emphasis placed on pictures of city life. In the cycle, the readers are presented with the inhabitants of earthly hell, as well as the living dead and demons. “A terrible world” in the understanding of Alexander Alexandrovich is a concept that also applies to the soul of the lyrical hero. She was almost dead, incredibly tired. There are no options for salvation from internal disharmony in Blok’s poetry.
In 1912, the poem “Worlds Fly By” was written. The years fly by. Empty...”, included in the “Scary World” series. Two stanzas of the text are completely devoted to reflections on the fundamental topic: “What is happiness?” In the second quatrain, the lyrical hero asks rhetorical questions. Is it possible to find happiness through unity with nature? Or is it better to plunge into wicked pleasures, giving preference to wine, passions and the destruction of the soul? The third stanza says that happiness is “oblivion, sleep and rest from worries.” Naturally, it doesn't last long. As soon as a person returns to reality, the “crazy, unknown and heart-grabbing flight” begins again. Next, the motif of the fatal cycle of life, important for the entire cycle, arises. The course of human existence is likened to a top launched “somewhere at random.” It would seem that the danger has passed, but literally a moment later a new test appears. People cannot see peace in a “terrible world.” Blok asks the rhetorical question: “When is the end?” But there is no way out of the hellish cycle. In the finale, the lyrical hero can only forget himself in the company of a comrade, at least for some time; this path of forgetting will be illusory. The poet also speaks about the fatal cycle of life in another poem from 1912 - in the famous miniature “Night. Street. Flashlight. Pharmacy…". By the way, it is included in the same sub-cycle along with the work “Worlds Fly. The years fly by. Empty...” - “Dances of Death.”
Blok Alexander Alexandrovich (1880–1921) - poet, one of the most prominent representatives of Russian symbolism.
“WORLDS FLY. THE YEARS FLY BY. EMPTY..."
Worlds are flying. The years fly by. Empty
The Universe looks at us with dark eyes.
And you, soul, tired, deaf,
You keep repeating about happiness - how many times?
What is happiness? Evening coolness
In a darkening garden, in the wilderness?
Or dark, vicious pleasures
Wine, passions, destruction of the soul?
What is happiness? A short moment and cramped,
Oblivion, sleep and rest from worries...
You wake up - crazy again, unknown
And a heart-grabbing flight...
He sighed and looked - the danger had passed...
But at this very moment - another push!
Launched somewhere, haphazardly,
The top is flying, buzzing, hurrying!
And clinging to the sliding, sharp edge,
And always listening to the buzzing ringing, -
Are we going crazy in the change of motley
Invented reasons, spaces, times...
When is the end? An annoying sound
He will not have the strength to listen without rest...
How scary everything is! How wild! - Give me your hand,
Comrade, friend! Let's forget again.
ALEXANDER BLOK
“WHEN YOU ARE DRIVEN AND BEATHED...”
(from the poem "Retribution")
When you're driven and downtrodden
People, care, or melancholy;
When under the gravestone
Everything that captivated you is sleeping;
When through the urban desert,
Desperate and sick
You're coming home
And frost weighs down my eyelashes,
Then - stop for a moment
Listen to the silence of the night:
You will perceive another life by hearing,
Which during the day you did not comprehend;
You'll look at it in a new way
The distance of snowy streets, the smoke of a fire,
Night quietly waiting for the morning
Over the white bushy garden,
And the sky is a book between books;
You will find your soul empty
Again the image of the mother is bowed,
And in this incomparable moment -
Patterns on lantern glass,
Frost that freezes the blood
Yours cold love -
Everything will flare up in a grateful heart,
Then you will bless everything,
Realizing that life is immeasurably more,
Than quantum satis* Brand of will,
And the world is beautiful, as always.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
ALEXANDER BLOK
“YES, THIS IS WHAT INSPIRATION TELLS ME...”
Yes, this is what inspiration tells me:
My free dream
Everything clings to where the humiliation is,
Where there is dirt, and darkness, and poverty.
And I love this terrible world:
Behind him a different world appears to me,
Promised and beautiful
And humanly simple.
And if you do not reap, you do not sow,
If you are “so simply a man”,
What do you know? What dare you
Judge in this crazy age?
Have you ever been humiliated
Illness, hunger, need?
Have you seen children in Paris?
Or beggars on the bridge in winter? -
To the impenetrable horror of life
Open quickly, open your eyes,
Until the great thunderstorm
I didn’t dare everything in your homeland,
And let your proud anger strike
Not those who carry the burden of life...
Another sowed evil seed,
But the sowing was not fruitless...
He is right at least in that this life
He rejected greasy blush,
What, like a timid mole, from the light
Buried in the ground, there it faded,
All my life I've been hating so hard
And cursing this light,
Even if you don’t see the future,
For the present day I have said: No!
ALEXANDER BLOK
“Oh, SPRING! WITHOUT END AND WITHOUT EDGE..."
Oh, spring! without end and without edge -
An endless and endless dream!
I recognize you, life! I accept!
And I greet you with the ringing of the shield!
I accept you, failure,
And good luck, my greetings to you!
In the enchanted area of crying,
There is no shame in the secret of laughter!
I accept sleepless arguments,
Morning in the curtains of dark windows,
So that my inflamed eyes
Spring was annoying and intoxicating!
I accept desert weights!
And the wells of earthly cities!
The illuminated expanse of the skies
And the languor of slave labor!
And I meet you at the doorstep -
With a wild wind in snake curls,
With an unsolved name of god
On cold and compressed lips...
Before this hostile meeting
I will never give up my shield...
You will never open your shoulders...
But above us is a drunken dream!
And I look and measure the enmity,
Hating, cursing and loving:
For torment, for death - I know -
All the same: I accept you!
ALEXANDER BLOK
"BEFORE COURT"
Why did you look down in embarrassment?
Look at me as before.
This is what you have become - in humiliation,
In the harsh, incorruptible light of day!
I myself am not the same - not the same,
Inaccessible, proud, pure, evil.
I look kinder and more hopeless
On the simple and boring earthly path.
Not only do I have no right,
I can't blame you
For your torment, for your evil one,
Many women are destined to...
But I'm a little different,
I know your life than others,
More than the judges, I am familiar
How did you end up on the edge?
Together on the edge, there was a time
We were driven by a destructive passion,
We wanted to throw off the burden together
And fly, only to fall later.
You always dreamed that when you were burning,
We'll burn out together - you and me,
What is given, in the arms of dying,
See the blissful lands...
What to do if you cheated
That dream, like any dream,
And that life mercilessly whipped
A rough rope of a whip?
She has no time for us, her hasty life,
And the dream is right that it lied to us. -
Still, someday happy
Weren't you with me?
This strand is so golden
Isn't it from the old fire? -
Passionate, godless, empty,
Unforgettable, forgive me!
ALEXANDER BLOK
“ONCE WINTER WILL PASS, YOU WILL SEE...”
Winter will pass - you will see
My plains and swamps
And you say: “How much beauty!
What a dead sleep!"
But remember, young one, in silence
I kept my thoughts in my plains
And I waited in vain for your soul,
Sick, rebellious and sullen.
In this twilight I wondered,
I looked cold death in the face
And I waited endlessly
Peering hungrily into the mists.
But you passed by, -
Among the swamps I kept my thoughts,
And this dead beauty
A gloomy trace remained in my soul.
ALEXANDER BLOK
"RUSSIA"
Again, like in the golden years,
Three worn out harnesses flutter,
And the painted knitting needles knit
Into loose ruts...
Russia, poor Russia,
I want your gray huts,
Your songs are windy to me -
Like the first tears of love!
I don't know how to feel sorry for you
And I carefully carry my cross...
Which sorcerer do you want?
Give me your robber beauty!
Let him lure and deceive, -
You won’t be lost, you won’t perish,
And only care will cloud
Your beautiful features...
Well then? One more concern -
The river is noisier with one tear,
And you are still the same - forest and field,
Yes, the patterned board goes up to the eyebrows...
And the impossible is possible
The long road is easy
When the road flashes in the distance
An instant glance from under a scarf,
When it rings with guarded melancholy
The dull song of the coachman!..
ALEXANDER BLOK
"I'M NAILED TO THE TALK STAND..."
I'm pinned to the tavern counter.
I've been drunk for a long time. I don't care.
There's my happiness - at three
Gone into the silver smoke...
Flies on a troika, sank
In the snow of time, in the distance of centuries...
And it just overwhelmed my soul
Silvery haze from under the horseshoes...
Throws sparks into the deep darkness,
Sparks all night, light all night...
The bell babbles under the arc
About the fact that happiness has passed...
And only the golden harness
Visible all night... Heard all night...
And you, soul... deaf soul...
Drunk drunk... drunk drunk...
