Monday, 16/12/2019 - 20:19

Poems by Russian authors


There is a blest place: by the trace In wilderness, in a little glade’s middle, Where in the eve, mists twine and bristle In moony silver’s easy lace… My friend! You know that glade, fair; There dig a pit and let me rest, When I will cease to breathe in air. Give to that grave […]

The Sail

The sail is whitening alone In blue obscurity of sea: What did it leave in country own? What does it want so far to see. The wind is strong, the mast is creaking, The wave is playing with the wave … But not a fortune is it seeking, Nor from this fortune is its way. […]

Their Love Was So Gentle…

Their love was so gentle, so long, and surprising, With pining, so deep, and zeal, like a crazy uprising! But, much like foes, they shunned their meetings, confessions… And were cold and empty their short conversations. They left each other in suffering, wordless and proud, And only in dreams,...

To A. O. Smirnov

If you are here, I want to hear, You’re absent – I’ve a lot to say; But, mute, you look at me severe, And I am silent on my way. What can I do? I haven’t a blessing To please you with my simple tongue… All this could sometimes be great fun, If were not […]

To the Countess Rostopchin

Under the same star, I am sure, We both crossed the worldly rims; We stepped along same road poor, And were deceived by same false dreams. Well, from my noble goal early Deprived by passions, wild and strong, I had forgot, while fighting vainly, My youthful years’ sacred songs. And seeing early...

Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov

Mikhail Lermontov was descended from George Learmont, a Scottish officer who entered the Russian service in the early seventeenth century. His literary fame began with a poem on the death of Pushkin, full of angry invective against the court circles ; for this Lermontov, a Guards officer, was...

To Naryshkin

All pity you: you’re so tired! You didn’t want at all to dance – And spent all night in dancing mire! Wasn’t it so good to stop at last? But if men rightly could distinguish Your mind and goodness of your words, — I swear by timelessness of gods – Mazurkas will be quite...

To the Picture Of Rembrandt

You understood, oh glum perfection, Those sadly and unconscious dreams, The rush of zeal and inspirations – All that Lord Byron conquered with. I see the image, that’s half-shown, But strongly and abruptly marked. Is that a runaway, well known, In holy cassock of a monk? Maybe, his mind, so...

To the Portrait

Like a boy, she is curly and frisky, Like a butterfly – wrapped in the brightness; And words that are empty or misty, In her lips, are full of a kindness. She can’t like a person for long: Hates habits as chains on her body, A snake, she will slip away, strong, And fly far […]

To Trubetskoy

The world has gone to whole null; Takes no kind of intimation; Tell him not straight, “You are a fool.” – He’ll take it as an acclamation! They used to hate, in a whole span, All with a seal of sense, forever! So, if I want to hurt a man, I would him call one […]