Marina Tsvetaeva is the brightest representative of lyric poetry of the 20th century; along with Anna, these two famous women are constantly compared, looking for similarities and differences in them, common intonations, style and manner of writing poetry. However, upon careful study of this issue, one can discover that Tsvetaeva and Akhmatova are completely different creative units: just as ice is not like fire, so Tsvetaeva is far from Akhmatova. The heroine of Anna Akhmatova's poems, on whose behalf she writes, is an aristocratic, restrained nature, inclined to analyze feelings, emotions, and actions.
Tsvetaeva is not Akhmatova
Tsvetaeva's love lyrics are presented by a heroine who is very emotional, open, sometimes inconsistent, and changeable. She does not engage in contemplation of the world, rarely falls into the autumn mood of unrequited feelings. She gives herself all to love - without reserve, passionately and emotionally. By the way, Marina Tsvetaeva idolized Anna Akhmatova and was her admirer all her life.
In poetry it is different
Tsvetaeva's love lyrics, whose poems are called the poetic heritage of the 20th century, are twofold: they contain sacrifice and persistence, assertiveness and questioning. This dichotomy can be traced in many of her works.
Tsvetaeva’s heroine is also different: sometimes she behaves like a woman experienced in love affairs, who looks with a somewhat ironic look at the manifestation of feelings and behavior towards her of a man in love (“Where does such tenderness come from?”), sometimes she presents herself as a witch (“So that he remembers not an hour, not a year..."). From a faithful wife (“S.E.”) she can transform into a lover who was rejected (“Gypsy Passion of Separation”). The heroine of Tsvetaeva’s poems often talks about men who once loved her, but now their feelings for her have cooled. The narrator in the following lines shows her domineering and capricious nature and makes a rather expressive reproach to the chosen one, who no longer dreams of her and does not praise her as before: “Yesterday - I was lying at my feet!”
Poetry. Analysis
Let's try to analyze a few poems in order to identify the features of Tsvetaeva's love lyrics, whose works resonate in the souls of modern poetry lovers, which in itself is not so surprising.
Despite the fact that Marina Tsvetaeva lived in a fairly distant time from us, her works are still relevant. After all, human feelings and emotions, which are so figuratively depicted in her work, are unchanged. In addition, she makes you fall in love with her poems thanks to her amazing talent for expressing her worldview in simple and understandable lines for everyone: here there is no need to pore over sophisticated words, trying to understand the essence of this or that poetic work.
Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics in the verse “Like the right and left hand” fascinate with its femininity, softness of words, gentle intonation:
We are adjacent, blissfully and warmly,
Like the right and left wing.
But the whirlwind rises - and the abyss lies
From right to left wing!
The narrator reveals the similarity and identity of souls in the first two lines. And this state of community evokes in the heroes of this verse a feeling of coziness and comfort, which, unfortunately, does not last very long. The last sentences of the verse demonstrate the gap that has formed between two lovers, which becomes an insurmountable obstacle for them. Tsvetaeva, with the words of her heroine, seems to confirm the well-known thesis: happiness does not last forever. No matter how much we want it.
And the look of youth at the world
In the poem “From a Fairytale to a Fairytale,” the adult heroine looks at the world with the surprised gaze of a girl and asks her chosen one to help her always remain young in relation to life and love relationships:
Don't let me be surprised
Be like a boy in a terrible secret
And in her rage she is tender
Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics in the poem “To be tender, furious and noisy” show the heroine’s love for life and the range of conflicting emotions and feelings overwhelming her. Everywhere the reader sees the author’s use of antitheses, for example: “eternal pink is the palest of all.” This poem was written by Tsvetaeva during her stay with her husband and daughter in Feodosia. Apparently, then Tsvetaeva was in a state of understanding the world, accepting life as it is. That is why the poetess uses such verbs as “to be” and “to become.” The heroine of the poem is interested not only in the world around her, but also in her own feelings: she captures in words the little things that are dear to her. For example, the bracelet that she sees “on this narrow, this long hand of mine.” However, studying herself as if from the outside, the heroine speaks about oblivion, apparently finding in this state also a certain meaning of existence:
And hair shine.
And the verse ends with a philosophical look into the future. The author denotes his thoughts on the inviolability of the world with the final lines:
And the moons will melt the same way
And melt the snow
When this young one rushes by,
A lovely age.
Tsvetaeva's love lyrics also include discussions about the opposition of the sexes. In the poem “Under the Caress of a Plush Blanket,” the narrator slowly talks about the “duel of willfulness,” in which it is unclear which of the two lovers is assigned the role of prey, and which of the hunter, and who still emerged victorious from this confrontation of personalities. She never finds an answer to these questions.
Love and death will overthrow
Marina Tsvetaeva's love lyrics also touch on the eternal theme of the struggle between Love and Death. In the verse “Love! Love!" they are fighting in the boundless world of the poetess. The narrator's feelings are changeable: at first she is incredulous, then passionate, and later confused. And all this is followed by escape. In general, this work is about the victory of love over death. For some people, whom the lyrical heroine described with the words “swaddled, eyeless and voiceless,” love is a trap. The heroine of this poetic story, unlike them, does not want to “hold pounds in her heart.” She strives for freedom and is confident that she will achieve this goal, because she has “a pair of beautiful wings.”
How diverse are the love lyrics of M. Tsvetaeva! Her poems are immeasurable. Her poems are eternal. They are love, which means they are incorruptible.
Tsvetaeva Marina Ivanovna- Russian poetess, prose writer, translator, one of the largest Russian poets of the 20th century.. Marina Tsvetaeva began writing poetry at the age of six, not only in Russian, but also in French and German.
Tsvetaeva compares herself with her heroes, gives them the chance of life beyond reality, compensates for the tragedy of their earthly life by belonging to the world of the soul, love, and poetry. That is why love poems by Marina Tsvetaeva It touches the soul so much.
I like that you're not sick of me
I like that you are not sick of me,
I like that it's not you that I'm sick of
That the globe is never heavy
It won't float away under our feet.
I like that you can be funny -
Loose - and don't play with words,
And do not blush with a suffocating wave,
Sleeves touching slightly.
I also like that you are with me
Calmly hug the other one,
Don't read to me in hellfire
Burn because I don't kiss you.
What is my gentle name, my gentle, not
You mention it day or night - in vain...
That never in church silence
They will not sing over us: Hallelujah!
Thank you with both heart and hand
Because you have me - without knowing yourself! -
So love: for my night's peace,
For the rare meeting at sunset hours,
For our non-walks under the moon,
For the sun, not above our heads, -
Because you are sick - alas! - not by me,
Because I am sick - alas! - not by you!
I love you - but the flour is still alive.
Find soothing words:
Rainy, - wasting everything
Invent it yourself, so that in their foliage
The rain was heard: it was not a flail on a sheaf:
The rain hits the roof: so that it hits my forehead,
It flowed onto the coffin so that the forehead would shine,
Chills - subsided for someone to sleep
And slept...
Through the wells, they say,
Water is leaking. In a row
They lie there, don’t complain, but wait
Unknown. (They will burn me).
Lull me - but please, be a friend:
Not with letters, but with hands:
LOVE
Scimitar? Fire?
More modestly - much louder!
Be as familiar as a palm to the eyes,
Like lips -
Your own child's name.
EXCEPT LOVE
She didn't love her, but she cried. No, I didn’t love you, but still
Only she showed you her adored face in the shadows.
Everything in our dream did not look like love:
No reasons, no evidence.
Only this image nodded to us from the evening hall,
Only we - you and I - brought him a plaintive verse.
The thread of adoration has tied us more tightly,
Than falling in love - others.
But the impulse passed, and someone approached tenderly,
Who could not pray, but loved. Don't rush to judge
You will be memorable to me, like the most tender note
In the awakening of the soul.
In this sad soul you wandered, as if in an unlocked house...
(In our house, in the spring...) Don’t call me the one who has forgotten!
I filled all my minutes with you, except
The saddest thing is love.
Love! Love! And in convulsions, and in the coffin
I’ll be wary - I’ll be seduced - I’ll be embarrassed - I’ll rush.
Oh dear! Not in a grave snowdrift,
I won’t say goodbye to you in the clouds.
And that’s not why I need a pair of beautiful wings
Given to keep poods in my heart.
Swaddled, eyeless and voiceless
I will not increase the miserable settlement.
No, I’ll stretch out my arms, my body is elastic
With a single wave from your shrouds,
Death, I'll knock you out! - About a thousand miles in the area
The snow has melted - and the forest of bedrooms.
And if all is well - shoulders, wings, knees
Squeezing, she let herself be led to the graveyard, -
Then only so that, laughing at decay,
Rise up in verse - or bloom like a rose!
Bad excuse
How love is old, how love is forgettable and new:
Morning, laughing, turns our temple into a house of cards.
O painful shame for the evening's extra word!
Oh melancholy in the morning!
The moon-blue trireme sank in the dawn,
Let no pen write about farewell to her!
Morning turns our garden of Eden into a miserable wasteland...
How love is old!
Only at night are signs sent to the soul from there,
That’s why everything at night, like a book, take care of it from everyone!
When you wake up, don’t whisper to anyone about a gentle miracle:
Light and miracle are enemies!
Your enthusiastic delirium, the light of the gilded chandelier shone pink,
It will be funny in the morning. Let the dawn not hear him!
Will be in the morning - a sage, will be in the morning - a cold scientist
The one who is at night is a poet.
How could I, living and breathing only at night, how could I
The best evening to give to the torment of a January day?
I only blame the morning, sending a sigh to the past,
I only blame the morning!
Some ancestor of mine was a violinist,
A rider and a thief at the same time.
Isn't that why my character is wandering?
And does your hair smell like the wind?
Isn't it he, the dark one, who steals from the cart?
Apricots with my hand,
The culprit of my passionate fate,
Curly-haired and hook-nosed?
Marveling at the plowman behind the plow,
A spit between the lips is a rosehip.
He was a bad comrade - dashing
And he was an affectionate lover!
Lover of pipe, moon and beads,
And all the young neighbors...
I also think that he is a coward
There was my yellow-eyed ancestor.
What, having sold my soul to the devil for a penny,
He did not go to the cemetery at midnight.
I also think that the knife
He wore it in his boot,
That more than once around the corner
He jumped - like a flexible cat...
And for some reason I realized
Why didn't he play the violin?
And he didn’t care at all,
Like last year's snow - in summer!
My ancestor was such a violinist.
I became such a poet.
Having managed to teach “women to speak,” Tsvetaeva’s lyrics reflected not thoughts, but the deep sensuality of a woman. Do you want to feel its fullness? Then this section is for you!
Marina Tsvetaeva knew about her work, like any great poet, all in advance. She asserted out loud that they would truly love her only “in a hundred years.” And the time for love has come. What are lovers looking for today in Tsvetaeva’s poems about a feeling that has troubled the hearts of people for thousands of years?
As a woman, Marina Tsvetaeva was not happy for long and very “shaky”. A difficult marriage with Sergei Efron due to the harsh times and the poetess’s inconsistency, novels with Sofia Parnok (Golliday), Boris Pasternak, Konstantin Rodzevich, as well as emigration and return to her homeland during the difficult days of the war, crippled Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva. So a straw is carried away from the field of birth by the wind to distant lands and one day is destroyed in a river whirlpool. The life of a philosopher, wife, mother, prose writer and poet was cut short in evacuation in the first year of the war at the end of the summer days.
But Tsvetaeva the poet (Marina Tsvetaeva did not like the word “poetess”) can provide support to her admirers and new “acquaintances.” What? Let's figure it out together.
Marina's love lyrics: 9 reasons to get acquainted with Tsvetaeva's poems
- “You’re coming, you look like me...” Tsvetaeva's poems about love perfectly complement the thoughts of young Romeo and Juliet, overwhelmed by the passion of maximalism. What fills their souls is expressed in the simplicity and almost naivety of Marina’s love works, and they often look to them for support in moments of joy and despair.
- “I like that it’s not me that’s making you sick.” When love fades or simply does not develop from a friendly feeling into something more serious and deep, no matter how much one would like it, poems about love from Marina Tsvetaeva also come to the rescue, like a smile or greetings from the distant past from good friends.
- The “sweet sin” of frivolity. Tsvetaeva’s life and novels were not cloudless, but in her poems there was more positive sound than negative in relation to the world, others and herself. This is especially appreciated in the age of general “mechanization” of relationships and communication. Charge yourself with Marina’s energy now!
- "I'm only a girl." It can be more difficult for lovers to playfully laugh at their feelings than to confess their all-consuming love. And Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics save dozens of couples from excessive seriousness and exaltation to the unbearable limits of their own emotions.
- “You and I are different.” There is no need to look for kinship of souls or similarities in appearance. Marina convinces her reader of this. It is opposites that attract. And you can’t argue: this has been proven by physicists in the theory of oppositely charged particles.
- “My passions are great...” Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics are an unconditional indulgence of female nature, driven deep into the depths of public opinion for millennia. A woman should be free to express her own feelings and choose the object of love. These truths have long been presented in society as an expression of heretical thoughts, and only Marina Tsvetaeva dared to tear off the shabby cover of false modesty from women’s desires and “allowed” them to be loved and open in the manifestation of passion with her poems.
- Tsvetaeva’s poems about love, like her prose, emphasize: there is no need to be afraid of bisexuality. For a poet it is natural. Marina herself also had affairs with female representatives. You can read about this in her notes, autobiographical stories and scientific works of those who studied her work and personal life. If it is now difficult for someone to take a step or comprehend their relationship with the opposite or same sex, Marina Ivanovna will again help out in reflection - and support through the century.
- “My dear, what have I done to you?” Experiencing not just a temporary separation, but parting with a loved one is a difficult test for loving hearts. Rereading the lines of Tsvetaeva’s works, both lyrical and in prose, the reader is convinced that one should not abandon hope even in the most bitter moment of despair, for it too will pass, carried away by a stream of tears...
- Freedom is the main value. The leitmotif of Marina Ivanovna’s entire work is not only sensuality and the choice of a partner not imposed by anyone, but also a person’s personal independence from extraneous judgments. Even in love lyrics, this theme is visible through the lines about love. If a woman wants to give herself to her beloved without reserve, this, according to Marina, is her personal decision, as is breaking off relations with him. For this respect for the spiritual impulses of the common man, the poet was “remembered” and loved a hundred years later, as Tsvetaeva herself predicted.
Give your loved ones the most touching legacy from the love lyrics of the early twentieth century! Look for the best poems about love from Marina Ivanovna in this section. If the collection seems incomplete to you, write to us about it, as well as your opinion about Tsvetaeva’s work in the comments. And we will always be glad to see you on the pages of our resource!
I like that you're not sick of me
I like that you are not sick of me,
I like that it's not you that I'm sick of
That the globe is never heavy
It won't float away under our feet.
I like that you can be funny -
Loose - and don't play with words,
And do not blush with a suffocating wave,
Sleeves touching slightly.
I also like that you are with me
Calmly hug the other one,
Don't read to me in hellfire
Burn because I don't kiss you.
What is my gentle name, my gentle, not
You mention it day or night - in vain...
That never in church silence
They will not sing over us: Hallelujah!
Thank you with both heart and hand
Because you have me - without knowing yourself! -
So love: for my night's peace,
For the rare meeting at sunset hours,
For our non-walks under the moon,
For the sun, not above our heads, -
Because you are sick - alas! - not by me,
Because I am sick - alas! - not by you!
Bad excuse
How love is old, how love is forgettable and new:
Morning, laughing, turns our temple into a house of cards.
O painful shame for the evening's extra word!
Oh melancholy in the morning!
The moon-blue trireme sank in the dawn,
Let no pen write about farewell to her!
Morning turns our garden of Eden into a miserable wasteland...
How love is old!
Only at night are signs sent to the soul from there,
That’s why everything at night, like a book, take care of it from everyone!
When you wake up, don’t whisper to anyone about a gentle miracle:
Light and miracle are enemies!
Your enthusiastic delirium, the light of the gilded chandelier shone pink,
It will be funny in the morning. Let the dawn not hear him!
Will be in the morning - a sage, will be in the morning - a cold scientist
The one who is at night is a poet.
How could I, living and breathing only at night, how could I
The best evening to give to the torment of a January day?
I only blame the morning, sending a sigh to the past,
I only blame the morning!
Nobody took anything away
Nobody took anything!
It's sweet to me that we are apart.
I kiss you - through hundreds
Disconnecting miles.
I know our gift is unequal
For the first time my voice is quiet.
What do you need, young Derzhavin,
My ill-mannered verse!
I baptize you for a terrible flight:
Fly, young eagle!
You endured the sun without squinting,
Is my youthful look heavy?
More tender and irrevocable
No one looked after you...
I kiss you - through hundreds
Years of separation.
Yesterday still
Yesterday I looked into your eyes,
And now everything is looking sideways!
Yesterday I was sitting before the birds, -
All larks these days are crows!
I'm stupid and you're smart
Alive, but I'm dumbfounded.
O cry of women of all times:
“My dear, what have I done to you?!”
And her tears are water, and blood -
Water, washed in blood, in tears!
Not a mother, but a stepmother - Love:
Expect neither judgment nor mercy.
The dear ships are taking away,
The white road leads them away...
And there is a groan all along the earth:
Yesterday I was still lying at my feet!
Equated with the Chinese state!
At once he unclenched both hands, -
Life fell like a rusty penny!
Child killer on trial
I stand - unkind, timid.
I'll tell you from hell:
“My dear, what have I done to you?”
I'll ask for a chair, I'll ask for a bed:
“Why, why do I suffer and suffer?”
"Kissed - wheeled:
Kiss the other one,” they answer.
I learned to live in the fire itself,
He threw it himself - into the frozen steppe!
That's what you, dear, did to me!
My dear, what have I done to you?
I know everything - don’t contradict me!
Sighted again - no longer a mistress!
Where Love retreats
Death the Gardener approaches there.
It’s like shaking a tree! -
In time the apple falls ripe...
- Forgive me for everything, for everything,
My dear, what have I done to you!
Who is made of stone, who is made of clay
Who is made of stone, who is made of clay -
And I’m silver and sparkling!
My business is treason, my name is Marina,
I am the mortal foam of the sea.
Who is made of clay, who is made of flesh -
The coffin and tombstones...
- Baptized in the sea font - and in flight
Its own - incessantly broken!
Through every heart, through every network
My self-will will come through.
Me - do you see these dissolute curls? -
You can't make earthly salt.
Crushing on your granite knees,
With every wave I am resurrected!
Long live the foam - cheerful foam -
High sea foam!
You and I are just two echoes:
You are silent and I will be silent.
We once with the humility of wax
Surrendered to the fatal ray.
This feeling is the sweetest illness
Our souls were tormented and burned.
That's why I feel you as a friend
Sometimes it brings me to tears.
Bitterness will soon become a smile,
And sadness will become fatigue.
It’s a pity, not the words, believe me, and not the look, -
Only a pity for the lost secrets!
From you, tired anatomist,
I have known the sweetest evil.
That's why I feel like you as a brother
Sometimes it brings me to tears.
You and I are different
You and I are different,
Like land and water,
You and I are different,
Like a ray with a shadow.
I assure you - it's not a problem,
And the best purchase.
You and I are different,
What grace!
Perfect complement
We are each other.
What can sameness give us?
Just a feeling of a vicious circle.
Under the caress of a plush blanket
Under the caress of a plush blanket
I induce yesterday's dream.
What was it? - Whose victory? -
Who is defeated?
I'm changing my mind again
I'm tormented by everyone again.
In something for which I don’t know the word,
Was there love?
Who was the hunter? - Who is the prey?
Everything is devilishly the other way around!
What did I understand, purring for a long time,
Siberian cat?
In that duel self-will
Who, in whose hand was only the ball?
Whose heart is it yours or mine?
Did it fly at a gallop?
And yet - what was it?
What do you want and regret?
I still don’t know: did she win?
Was she defeated?
I will repeat on the eve of separation
I will repeat on the eve of separation,
At the end of love
That I loved these hands
Your bosses
And the eyes - someone - someone
They don’t give you a glance! -
Requiring a report
For a casual glance.
All of you and your damned one
Passion - God knows! —
Demanding retribution
For an accidental sigh.
And I’ll say it again wearily,
- Don’t rush to listen! —
What did your soul do to me?
Across the soul.
And I’ll also tell you:
- It’s still eve! —
This mouth before the kiss
Yours was young.
The look - to the look - is bold and bright,
Heart - about five years old...
Happy who didn't meet you
On his way.
Except love
She didn't love her, but she cried. No, I didn’t love you, but still
Only she showed you her adored face in the shadows.
Everything in our dream did not look like love:
No reasons, no evidence.
Only this image nodded to us from the evening hall,
Only we - you and I - brought him a plaintive verse.
The thread of adoration has tied us more tightly,
Than falling in love - others.
But the impulse passed, and someone approached tenderly,
Who could not pray, but loved. Don't rush to judge!
You will be memorable to me, like the most tender note
In the awakening of the soul.
In this sad soul you wandered as if in an unlocked house.
(In our house, in the spring...) Don’t call me the one who has forgotten!
I filled all my minutes with you, except
The saddest thing is love.
In the sun, in the wind, in free space
In the sun, in the wind, in free space
Take your love away!
So that your joyful gaze does not see
Judge every passerby.
Run to freedom, to the valleys, to the fields,
Dance easily on the grass
And drink like playful children of the shawl,
From large mugs of milk.
Oh, you are, for the first time, embarrassedly in love,
Trust the vicissitudes of dreams!
Run with her into freedom, under the willows, under the maple,
Under the young greenery of birches;
Graze your flocks on the pink slopes,
Listen to the murmur of the streams;
And friend, minx, you are here without shame
Kiss your beautiful lips!
Who will whisper a reproach to young happiness?
Who will say: “It’s time!” forgetting?
- In the sun, in the wind, in free space
Take your love away!
Marina Tsvetaeva
"I care about betrayal, my name is Marina"
“I like that it’s not me that you’re sick with,” it seems that Tsvetaeva was lying. With her thirst for life, with her greed for a flood of feelings, she would never allow her neighbor to love someone else. And also get aesthetic pleasure from it. Let us at least remember how she abandoned her young sick daughter at home alone, running off on dates, how, already at an age, she seduced young fans of her work, how she rewrote poems, dedicating them to one or another lover.
Living in lies and self-deception, Tsvetaeva is extremely frank in her poems, in them she poured out everything she felt and grieved about:
“I owe all my poems to the people I loved, who loved me or did not love me.”
Her lyrics echo this:
"Every verse is a child of love,
An illegitimate beggar."
Perhaps it was this frankness on the verge of despair that made her one of the best poets of the Silver Age.
Another secret of unfading popularity: Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics speak in an understandable language. This monologue could belong to any offended abandoned woman:
"I'm stupid, and you're smart,
Alive, but I'm dumbfounded.
O cry of women of all times:
And her tears are water, and blood -
Not a mother, but a stepmother - Love:
The dear ships are taking away,
The white road leads them away...
Yesterday I was still lying at my feet!
Equated with the Chinese state!
At once he unclenched both hands, -
"Kissed - wheeled:
Kiss the other one,” they answer.
And the final quatrain is especially shocking, full of love and unexpected, after a furious accusatory monologue, tenderness:
“It’s like shaking a tree!”
My dear, what have I done to you!”
But is this repentance really that sincere? Where then suddenly appeared arrogance and sick words - slaps in the face, to which the poetess is quick:
"How do you live with the goods?
Market? Is quitrent cool?
After the marbles of Carrara
How do you live with dust?
Plaster? (Hewn from a block
God is completely broken!)
To you, who knew Lilith!"
And - suddenly - understanding, acceptance of the inevitable:
"Bitterness, bitterness, eternal taste
On your lips, oh passion.
Bitterness, bitterness, eternal temptation
Finally fall.
I kiss you out of bitterness
Everyone who is young and good.
You from bitterness - another
Silently you lead by the hand..."
Rigidity and tenderness that corrodes to the bones, thoughtless impetuosity and inhuman wisdom - all this merges in Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics, making you cry with her about your own, forgive her everything and forgive with her. And admire. If I had a chance to choose the best work about love of the 20th century, I would give the palm to her poem “The Duel.” The stories of Casanova and the princess, who met so strangely, parted so quickly that they would never forget each other. The wisdom and life experience of the poetess sounds in the mouth of young Henrietta:
"...Not all
So easy under the moonlight, Casanova!
Seven steps on the ladder of love...
And hundreds of thousands
And hundreds of thousands of miles between “yes” and “no”.
And in response to the impetuous assurances of the young Casanova:
"I have never loved so passionately
I’ll never love like that again,” she answers deeply sadly:
"So - never, a thousand times - otherwise:
Passionate - yes, stronger - yes, weirder - no."
Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics are so multifaceted (“a thousand times different” that any reader can find something of his own, in tune with his feelings and situation. The titles themselves speak for themselves: “Poem of the End”, “Nights with the Unloved”, “An Attempt of Jealousy” ...And the remaining open question:
"And yet - what was it?
What do you want and regret?
I still don’t know: did she win?
Are you defeated?"
Where does such tenderness come from?..
O. E. Mandelstam
Where does such tenderness come from?
Not the first - these curls
I smooth out my lips
I knew someone darker than you.
The stars rose and went out,
Where does such tenderness come from? -
The eyes rose and went out
Right before my eyes.
Not the same hymns yet
I listened in the dark night
Crowned - oh tenderness! -
On the very chest of the singer.
Where does such tenderness come from?
And what to do with her, boy?
Crafty, wandering singer,
With eyelashes - no longer?
Nights without a loved one - and nights...
Nights without a loved one - and nights
With the unloved and big stars
Over the hot head and hands,
Reaching out to That -
Who has not been for centuries - and will not be,
Those who cannot be - and must be.
And a child's tear for a hero,
And a hero's tear for a child,
And big stone mountains
On the chest of the one who should - down...
I know everything that was, everything that will be,
I know the whole deaf-mute secret,
What's on the dark, tongue-tied
In human language it is called Life.
New Moon
The new month has risen over the meadow,
Above the dewy boundary.
Dear, distant and alien,
Come, you will be a friend.
During the day I hide, during the day I remain silent.
A month in the sky - there is no urine!
On these monthly nights
I'm eager to touch my beloved shoulder.
I won’t ask myself: “Who is he?”
Your lips will tell everything!
Only during the daytime hugs are rude,
Only during the day is the impulse funny.
During the day, tormented by a proud demon,
I lie with a smile on my lips.
At night... Dear, distant... Ah!
The crescent moon is already above the forest!
I never got to love you...
I didn't get to love you
Or maybe it won’t happen!
The whirlpool of hair is in vain
Above the dark profile of a foreigner,
And a nose flaring nostrils,
And curled eyelashes,
And - treacherous by habit -
The eyes of a robber and a Kalmyk woman.
And the step, slow at the mirrors,
And laughter, more piercing than a splinter,
And that predatory grin
At the sight of gold or a rose,
And a flying glass
And resting on the waist
A hand playing with steel
A hand crossing itself under a shawl.
So, - from idleness and for play -
My verse gave me away completely!
But you are beautiful and kind:
Like a gilded ancient idol
You accept all gifts!
And all that I coo to you as a dove -
In vain - in vain - in vain and in vain,
Like all the confessions and kisses!
I like that you are not sick with me...
I like that you are not sick of me,
I like that it's not you that I'm sick of
That the globe is never heavy
It won't float away under our feet.
I like that you can be funny -
Loose - and don't play with words,
And do not blush with a suffocating wave,
Sleeves touching slightly.
I also like that you are with me
Calmly hug the other one,
Don't read to me in hellfire
Burn because I don't kiss you.
What is my gentle name, my gentle, not
You mention it day or night - in vain...
That never in church silence
They will not sing over us: Hallelujah!
Thank you with both heart and hand
Because you have me - without knowing yourself! -
So love: for my night's peace,
For the rare meeting at sunset hours,
For our non-walks under the moon,
For the sun, not above our heads, -
Because you are sick - alas! - not by me,
Because I am sick - alas! - not by you!
The world began in the darkness of nomadism...
The world nomadism began in the darkness:
It is the trees that roam the night earth,
These are grapes of golden wine fermenting,
It is the stars who wander from house to house,
These are the rivers starting their journey - backwards!
And I want to sleep on your chest.
Love! Love!..
Love! Love! And in convulsions, and in the coffin
I’ll be wary - I’ll be seduced - I’ll be embarrassed - I’ll rush.
Oh dear! Not in a grave snowdrift,
I won’t say goodbye to you in the clouds.
And that’s not why I need a pair of beautiful wings
Given to keep poods in my heart.
Swaddled, eyeless and voiceless
I will not increase the miserable settlement.
No, I’ll stretch out my arms, my body is elastic
With a single wave from your shrouds,
Death, I'll knock you out! - About a thousand miles in the area
The snow has melted - and the forest of bedrooms.
And if all is well - shoulders, wings, knees
Squeezing, she let herself be led to the graveyard, -
Then only so that, laughing at decay,
Rise up in verse - or bloom like a rose!
I love you - but the flour is still alive...
I love you - but the flour is still alive.
Find soothing words:
Rainy, - wasting everything
Invent it yourself, so that in their foliage
The rain was heard: it was not a flail on a sheaf:
The rain hits the roof: so that it hits my forehead,
It flowed onto the coffin so that the forehead would shine,
Chills - subsided for someone to sleep
And slept...
Through the wells, they say,
Water is leaking. In a row
They lie there, don’t complain, but wait
Unknown. (They will burn me).
Lull me - but please, be a friend:
Not with letters, but with hands:
Comforts...
Except love
No reasons, no evidence.
Than falling in love - others.
Who could not pray, but loved. Don't rush to judge
In the awakening of the soul.
In this sad soul you wandered, as if in an unlocked house...
The saddest thing is love.
Witch
I am Eva, and my passions are great:
My whole life is a passionate trembling!
My eyes are like embers,
And the hair is ripe rye,
And cornflowers reach out to them from the bread.
My mysterious age is good.
Have you seen elves in the midnight darkness?
Through the purple smoke of a fire?
I won’t take jingling coins from you, -
I am the sister of the ghost elves...
And if you throw a witch into prison,
Death in captivity is quick!
Abbots, performing midnight watch,
They said, "Close your door
A mad sorceress, whose gaze is a shame.
The witch is as cunning as a beast!"
- It may be true, but my gaze is dark,
I am a mystery, but believe in the secret!
What is my sin? That I don’t learn tears in church,
Laughing in reality and in a dream?
Believe me: I cure pain with laughter,
But laughter doesn’t make me happy!
Farewell, my knight, I will rush into the sky
Today on the moon horse!
Knight angelic
Angel-like knight -
Duty! - Heavenly sentry!
White gravestone monument
Alive on my chest.
Winged behind me
The growing sergeant,
Nightly spy
Every morning bell ringer.
Passion, and youth, and pride
Everything surrendered without a riot,
Because you are a slave
The first one said: - Madam!
Bad excuse
How love is old, how love is forgettable and new:
Morning, laughing, turns our temple into a house of cards.
O painful shame for the evening's extra word!
Oh melancholy in the morning!
The moon-blue trireme sank in the dawn,
Let no pen write about farewell to her!
Morning turns our garden of Eden into a miserable wasteland...
How love is old!
Only at night are signs sent to the soul from there,
That’s why everything at night, like a book, take care of it from everyone!
When you wake up, don’t whisper to anyone about a gentle miracle:
Light and miracle are enemies!
Your enthusiastic delirium, the light of the gilded chandelier shone pink,
It will be funny in the morning. Let the dawn not hear him!
Will be in the morning - a sage, will be in the morning - a cold scientist
The one who is at night is a poet.
How could I, living and breathing only at night, how could I
The best evening to give to the torment of a January day?
I only blame the morning, sending a sigh to the past,
I only blame the morning!
Nobody took anything away
Nobody took anything!
It's sweet to me that we are apart.
I kiss you - through hundreds
Disconnecting miles.
I know our gift is unequal,
For the first time my voice is quiet.
What do you need, young Derzhavin,
My ill-mannered verse!
I baptize you for a terrible flight:
Fly, young eagle!
You endured the sun without squinting,
Is my youthful look heavy?
More tender and irrevocable
No one looked after you...
I kiss you - through hundreds
Years of separation.
Yesterday still
Yesterday I looked into your eyes,
And now everything is looking sideways!
Yesterday I was sitting before the birds, -
All larks these days are crows!
I'm stupid and you're smart
Alive, but I'm dumbfounded.
O cry of women of all times:
“My dear, what have I done to you?!”
And her tears are water, and blood -
Water, washed in blood, in tears!
Not a mother, but a stepmother - Love:
Expect neither judgment nor mercy.
The dear ships are taking away,
The white road leads them away...
And there is a groan all along the earth:
“My dear, what have I done to you?”
Yesterday I was still lying at my feet!
Equated with the Chinese state!
At once he unclenched both hands, -
Life fell like a rusty penny!
Child killer on trial
I stand - unkind, timid.
I'll tell you from hell:
“My dear, what have I done to you?”
I'll ask for a chair, I'll ask for a bed:
“Why, why do I suffer and suffer?”
"Kissed - wheeled:
Kiss the other one,” they answer.
I learned to live in the fire itself,
He threw it himself - into the frozen steppe!
That's what you, dear, did to me!
My dear, what have I done to you?
I know everything - don’t contradict me!
Sighted again - no longer a mistress!
Where Love retreats
Death the Gardener approaches there.
It’s like shaking a tree! -
In time the apple falls ripe...
- Forgive me for everything, for everything,
My dear, what have I done to you!
Who is made of stone, who is made of clay
Who is made of stone, who is made of clay -
And I’m silver and sparkling!
My business is treason, my name is Marina,
I am the mortal foam of the sea.
Who is made of clay, who is made of flesh -
The coffin and tombstones...
- Baptized in the sea font - and in flight
Its own - incessantly broken!
Through every heart, through every network
My self-will will come through.
Me - do you see these dissolute curls? -
You can't make earthly salt.
Crushing on your granite knees,
With every wave I am resurrected!
Long live the foam - cheerful foam -
High sea foam!
You and I are just two echoes:
You are silent and I will be silent.
We once with the humility of wax
Surrendered to the fatal ray.
This feeling is the sweetest illness
Our souls were tormented and burned.
That's why I feel you as a friend
Sometimes it brings me to tears.
Bitterness will soon become a smile,
And sadness will become fatigue.
It’s a pity, not the words, believe me, and not the look, -
Only a pity for the lost secrets!
From you, tired anatomist,
I have known the sweetest evil.
That's why I feel like you as a brother
Sometimes it brings me to tears.
You and I are different
You and I are different,
Like land and water,
You and I are different,
Like a ray with a shadow.
I assure you - it's not a problem,
And the best purchase.
You and I are different,
What grace!
Perfect complement
We are each other.
What can sameness give us?
Just a feeling of a vicious circle.
Error
When a snowflake that flies easily
Sliding like a fallen star,
You take it with your hand - it melts like a tear,
And it is impossible to return its airiness.
When captivated by the transparency of the jellyfish,
We will touch her with the whim of our hands,
She is like a prisoner imprisoned in bonds,
Suddenly he turns pale and dies suddenly.
When we want, we are wandering moths
Apparently not a dream, but an earthly reality -
Where is their outfit? From them on our fingers
One dawn painted dust!
Leave the flight to snowflakes and moths
And don’t destroy the jellyfish on the sands!
You can't grab your dream with your hands,
You can't hold your dream in your hands!
It is impossible for what was unsteady sadness,
Say: “Be passion! Be mad, burn!”
Your love was such a mistake -
But without love we perish. Magician!
Frivolity is a sweet sin
Frivolity! - Dear sin,
My dear companion and enemy!
You brought laughter into my eyes,
and he sprayed the mazurka into my veins.
Having taught not to keep rings, -
With whomever Life marries me!
Start at random from the end,
And finish before it even begins.
Be like a stem and be like steel
in life where we can do so little...
- Use chocolate to treat sadness,
And laugh in the faces of passers-by!
Only girl
I'm only a girl. My debt
Until the wedding crown
Don't forget that there is a wolf everywhere
And remember: I am a sheep.
Dream about a golden castle,
Swing, spin, shake
First the doll, and then
Not a doll, but almost.
There is no sword in my hand,
Don't ring the string.
“I’m just a girl,” I’m silent.
Oh, if only I could
Looking at the stars to know what is there
And a star lit up for me
And smile to all eyes,
Keep your eyes open!
You're coming, you look like me
You're coming, looking like me,
Eyes looking down.
I lowered them too!
Passerby, stop!
Read - night blindness
And picking a bouquet of poppies,
That my name was Marina
And how old was I?
Don't think that there is a grave here,
That I will appear, threatening...
I loved myself too much
Laugh when you shouldn't!
And the blood rushed to the skin,
And my curls curled...
I was there too, a passerby!
Passerby, stop!
Pluck yourself a wild stem
And a berry after him, -
Cemetery strawberries
It doesn't get any bigger or sweeter.
But just don't stand there sullenly,
He lowered his head onto his chest.
Think about me easily
It's easy to forget about me.
How the beam illuminates you!
You're covered in gold dust...
- And don’t let it bother you
My voice is from underground.
Under the caress of a plush blanket
Under the caress of a plush blanket
I induce yesterday's dream.
What was it? - Whose victory? -
Who is defeated?
I'm changing my mind again
I'm tormented by everyone again.
In something for which I don’t know the word,
Was there love?
Who was the hunter? - Who is the prey?
Everything is devilishly the other way around!
What did I understand, purring for a long time,
Siberian cat?
In that duel self-will
Who, in whose hand was only the ball?
Whose heart is it yours or mine?
Did it fly at a gallop?
And yet - what was it?
What do you want and regret?
I still don’t know: did she win?
Was she defeated?
I will repeat on the eve of separation
I will repeat on the eve of separation,
At the end of love
That I loved these hands
Your bosses
And the eyes of - someone - someone
They don’t give you a glance! -
Requiring a report
For a casual glance.
All of you and your damned one
Passion - God sees! -
Demanding retribution
For an accidental sigh.
And I’ll say it again wearily,
- Don’t rush to listen! -
What did your soul do to me?
Across the soul.
And I’ll also tell you:
- It’s still eve! -
This mouth before the kiss
Yours was young.
Look to look - bold and bright,
Heart - about five years old...
Happy who didn't meet you
On his way.
Next
Are you holy, or are you more sinful,
You enter into life, or your path is behind you, -
Oh, just love him, love him more tenderly!
Like a boy, cradle him on your chest,
Don’t forget that caresses are more important than sleep,
And suddenly don’t wake me up from sleep with a hug.
Be with him forever: let them teach fidelity
You see his sadness and tender gaze.
Be with him forever: his doubts torment him,
Touch it with the sisters' movement.
But if dreams become boring with sinlessness,
Manage to light a monstrous fire!
Do not boldly exchange a nod with anyone,
In myself there is a longing for the past of the sleep.
Be the one to him who I didn’t dare to be:
Don’t ruin his dreams with fear!
Be the one for him who I couldn’t be:
Love without measures and love to the end!
Except love
She didn't love her, but she cried. No, I didn’t love you, but still
Only she showed you her adored face in the shadows.
Everything in our dream did not look like love:
No reasons, no evidence.
Only this image nodded to us from the evening hall,
Only we - you and I - brought him a plaintive verse.
The thread of adoration has tied us more tightly,
Than falling in love - others.
But the impulse passed, and someone approached tenderly,
Who could not pray, but loved. Don't rush to judge!
You will be memorable to me, like the most tender note
In the awakening of the soul.
In this sad soul you wandered as if in an unlocked house.
(In our house, in the spring...) Don’t call me the one who has forgotten!
I filled all my minutes with you, except
The saddest thing is love.
Here's the window again
Here's the window again
Where they don't sleep again.
Maybe they drink wine
Maybe that's how they sit.
Or simply - hands
Two cannot separate.
In every home, friend,
There is such a window.
The cry of separations and meetings -
You, window in the night!
Maybe hundreds of candles,
Maybe two candles...
But no mind
My peace...
And in my house
It started like this...
In the sun, in the wind, in free space
In the sun, in the wind, in free space
Take your love away!
So that your joyful gaze does not see
Judge every passerby.
Run to freedom, to the valleys, to the fields,
Dance easily on the grass
And drink like playful children of the shawl,
From large mugs of milk.
Oh, you are, for the first time, embarrassedly in love,
Trust the vicissitudes of dreams!
Run with her into freedom, under the willows, under the maple,
Under the young greenery of birches;
Graze your flocks on the pink slopes,
Listen to the murmur of the streams;
And friend, minx, you are here without shame
Kiss your beautiful lips!
Who will whisper a reproach to young happiness?
Who will say: “It’s time!” forgetting?
- In the sun, in the wind, in free space
Take your love away!
Not a warlock! In the white book
Not a warlock! In the white book
The distances of the Don have sharpened their gaze!
Wherever you are, I will overtake you,
I will suffer and return it back.
For from your pride, like from a cedar.
I look around the world: ships are sailing,
The glow is prowling... The depths of the sea
I’ll turn it inside out and bring it back from the bottom!
Suffer me! I'm everywhere:
I am dawn and ore, bread and sigh,
I am and I will be and I will get
Lips - how God gets the soul:
Through your breath - at your hoarse hour,
Through the Arkhangelsk court
Fence! - All lips are about thorns
I’ll bleed you out and bring you back from the bed!
Give up! After all, this is not a fairy tale at all!
- Give up! - The arrow, having described a circle...
- Give up! - No one has escaped yet
From one who overtakes without hands:
Through breathing... (Percy soared,
The eyelids cannot see, there is mica around the lips...)
Like a seer - Samuel
I'll freeze out and come back alone:
For the other is with you, and in judgment
They can't compete for a day...
I curl and last.
I am and I will be and I will get
The soul is like the lips will get the lips.
Your tender mouth is a continuous kiss
Your tender mouth is a continuous kiss...
- And that’s all, and I’m just like a beggar.
Who am I now? - United? - No, a thousand!
Conqueror? - No, conquest!
Is this love or admiration?
The pen's whim - or the root cause,
Is it languishing according to the angelic order -
Or a little pretense - by vocation...
- Sadness of the soul, charm of the eyes,
Is it a stroke of the pen - ah! - does it matter?
What will this mouth be called - until
Your tender mouth is a complete kiss!
Cats
They come to us when
We don't see pain in our eyes.
But the pain came - they are no longer there:
There is no shame in a cat's heart!
It's funny, isn't it, poet,
Train them for domestic roles.
They are running away from slavery.
There is no slavery in a cat's heart!
No matter how you beckon, no matter what you call,
No matter how you pamper yourself in a cozy lounge,
One moment - they are free:
There is no love in a cat's heart!
I wrote on a slate board
I wrote on a slate board,
And on the leaves of faded fans,
Both on river and sea sand,
Skates on the ice, and a ring on the glass, -
And on trunks that are hundreds of winters old,
And finally - so that everyone knows! -
What do you love! love! love! love! -
She signed it with a heavenly rainbow.
How I wanted everyone to bloom
For centuries with me! under my fingers!
And how then, bowing his forehead on the table,
She crossed out the name crosswise...
But you, in the hand of a corrupt scribe
Squeezed! You, you sting my heart!
Unsold by me! inside the ring!
You will survive on the tablets.
Where does such tenderness come from?
Where does such tenderness come from?
Not the first - these curls
I smooth out my lips
I knew - darker than yours.
The stars rose and went out
(Where does such tenderness come from?),
The eyes rose and went out
Right before my eyes.
Not the same songs yet
I listened in the dark night
(Where does such tenderness come from?)
On the very chest of the singer.
Where does such tenderness come from?
And what to do with her, boy?
Crafty, wandering singer,
With eyelashes - no longer?
I want to be at the mirror, where there is dregs
I want to be at the mirror, where there is dregs
And the dream is foggy,
I'll ask you where to go
And where is the refuge?
I see: the mast of a ship,
And you are on deck...
You are in the smoke of the train... Fields
In the evening complaint -
Evening fields in dew,
Above them are crows...
- I bless you for everything
Four sides!
Didn't kiss - kissed
They didn't kiss, they kissed.
They didn’t speak - they breathed.
Maybe you haven’t lived on earth,
Maybe it was just a cloak hanging on a chair.
Maybe - long ago under a flat stone
Your tender age has calmed down.
I felt like wax:
Little deceased woman in roses.
I put my hand on my heart - it doesn’t beat.
It’s so easy without happiness, without suffering!
- So it went - what people call -
In the world - a love date.
Flower pinned to chest
A flower is pinned to the chest,
I don’t remember who pinned it.
My hunger is insatiable
For sadness, for passion, for death.
Cello, creaking
Doors and the clink of glasses,
And the clang of spurs, and a scream
Evening trains
Shot while hunting
And the bells of threes -
You are calling, you are calling
Unloved by me!
But there is still a delight:
I'm waiting for whoever is first
He will understand me properly -
And he will shoot at point blank range.
An attempt at jealousy
How do you live with someone else?
It’s easier, isn’t it? - The blow of the oar! -
Coastline
Will the memory soon fade away?
About me, floating island
(Across the sky - not across the waters)!
Souls, souls! - to be your sisters,
Not lovers - you!
How do you live with downtime?
A woman? Without deities?
Empress from the throne
Having overthrown (descended from it),
How is your life - you are busy -
Are you cringing? Getting up - how?
With the duty of immortal vulgarity
How are you coping, poor man?
"Convulsions and interruptions -
Enough! I'll rent a house."
How do you live with anyone -
To my chosen one!
More characteristic and edible -
Food? If you get bored, don't blame me...
How do you live with your likeness -
To you, who trampled Sinai!
How do you live with a stranger?
From here? Edge-on - Lyuba?
Shame of Zeus's reins
Doesn't it whip your forehead?
How are you doing - are you healthy -
Maybe? Sung - how?
With the ulcer of an immortal conscience
How are you coping, poor man?
How do you live with the product?
Market? Is quitrent cool?
After the marbles of Carrara
How do you live with dust?
Plaster? (Hewn from a block
God is completely broken!)
How do you live with a hundred thousand -
To you who have known Lilith!
Market novelty
Are you full? I've cooled down to the wizards,
How do you live with the earthly
A woman, without sixths
Feelings?..
Well, behind your head: are you happy?
No? In a hole without depths -
How are you, dear? Is it harder
Is it the same as for me with others?
You, who loved me with falsehood
You, who loved me with falsehood
Truth - and the truth of lies,
You, who loved me, continue
Nowhere! - Abroad!
You, who loved me longer
Time. - Hands swing! -
You don't love me anymore:
The truth in five words.
Rival, I’ll come to you
Rival, I’ll come to you
Someday, on such a moonlit night,
When the frogs howl on the pond
And women are mad with pity.
And, touching the beating of my eyelids
And on your jealous eyelashes,
I'll tell you that I'm not a person,
But only a dream that is only dreamed.
And I will say: - Comfort me, comfort me,
Someone is hammering nails into my heart!
And I'll tell you that the wind is fresh,
How hot are the stars overhead...
Remember: all heads are dearer to me
Remember: all heads are dearer to me
One hair from my head.
And go... - You too,
And you too, and you.
Stop loving me, stop loving everyone!
Watch out for me in the morning!
So that I can go out calmly
Stand in the wind.
You are a stranger to me and not a stranger
You are a stranger to me and not a stranger,
Native and not native,
Mine and not mine! Coming to you
Home - I won’t say “visiting”
And I won’t say “home.”
Love is like a fiery furnace:
But the ring is a big thing,
And yet the altar is a great light.
- God did not bless!
I appeared to you as a boy running briskly
A boy running briskly
I appeared to you.
You chuckled soberly
To my evil words:
"A prank is my life, my name is a prank!
Laugh, who is not stupid!"
And they didn’t see the fatigue
Pale lips.
You were attracted to the moons
Two huge eyes.
- Too pink and young
I was there for you!
Melting lighter than snow,
I was like steel.
Running ball
Straight to the piano
The creaking of sand under a tooth or
Steel on glass...
- Only you didn’t catch it
menacing arrow
My light words and tenderness
Show off anger...
Stone hopelessness
All my mischief!
I am, you will be
I am. You will. There is an abyss between us.
I drink. You are thirsty. It is futile to come to an agreement.
We are ten years old, we are a hundred thousand years old
They separate. - God doesn’t build bridges.
Be! - this is my commandment. Give - by
Pass without breathing without disturbing the growth.
I am. You will. In ten springs
You will say: - I am! - and I will say: - once upon a time...
Every verse is a child of love
Every verse is a child of love,
An illegitimate beggar.
Firstborn - at the rut
To bow to the winds - laid down.
For the heart there is hell and altar,
For the heart - heaven and shame.
Who is the father? Maybe the king
Maybe a king, maybe a thief.
Some ancestor of mine was a violinist
Some ancestor of mine was a violinist,
A rider and a thief at the same time.
Isn't that why my character is wandering?
And does your hair smell like the wind?
Isn't it he, the dark one, who steals from the cart?
Apricots with my hand,
The culprit of my passionate fate,
Curly-haired and hook-nosed?
Marveling at the plowman behind the plow,
A spit between the lips is a rosehip.
He was a bad comrade - dashing
And he was an affectionate lover!
Lover of pipe, moon and beads,
And all the young neighbors...
I also think that he is a coward
There was my yellow-eyed ancestor.
What, having sold my soul to the devil for a penny,
He did not go to the cemetery at midnight.
I also think that the knife
He wore it in his boot,
That more than once around the corner
He jumped - like a flexible cat...
And for some reason I realized
Why didn't he play the violin?
And he didn’t care at all,
Like last year's snow - in summer!
My ancestor was such a violinist.
I became such a poet.
In Paradise
I will cry for earthly things in heaven too,
I used old words at our new meeting
I won't hide it.
Where hosts of angels fly in order,
Where are the harps, lilies and children's choir,
Where everything is calm, I will be restless
To catch your eye.
Seeing off visions of heaven with a smile,
Alone in a circle of innocently strict maidens,
I will sing, earthly and alien,
Earthly tune!
The memory puts too much pressure on my shoulders,
The moment will come - I will not hide my tears...
Neither here nor there, there is no need to meet anywhere,
And we won’t wake up in paradise for meetings!
Be tender, frantic and noisy
To be tender, frantic and noisy,
- So eager to live! -
Charming and smart, -
Be lovely!
More tender than everyone who is and was,
Don't know the guilt...
- About the indignation that is in the grave
We are all equal!
Become something that no one likes
- Oh, become like ice! -
Without knowing what happened,
Nothing will come
Forget how my heart broke
And it grew together again
Forget your words and voice,
And hair shine.
Antique turquoise bracelet -
On a stalk
On this narrow, this long
My hand...
Like sketching a cloud
From afar,
For the mother-of-pearl handle
The hand was taken
How the legs jumped over
Through the fence
Forget how nearby on the road
A shadow ran.
Forget how fiery it is in the azure,
How quiet the days are...
- All your pranks, all your storms
And all the poems!
My accomplished miracle
Will disperse the laughter.
I, forever pink, will
The palest of all.
And they won’t open up - that’s how it should be -
- Oh, be sorry! -
Neither for the sunset, nor for the glance,
Neither for fields -
My drooping eyelids.
- Not for a flower! -
My land, forgive me forever,
For all ages.
And the moons will melt the same way
And melt the snow
When this young one rushes by,
A lovely age.
Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is a bird in your hand,
Your name is like a piece of ice on the tongue,
One single movement of the lips,
Your name is five letters.
A ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in mouth
A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sob as your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your big name is booming.
And he will call it to our temple
The trigger clicks loudly.
Your name - oh, you can’t! -
Your name is a kiss on the eyes,
In the tender cold of motionless eyelids,
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip.
With your name - deep sleep.
