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Часть текста: Introduction Introduction Im nightingale: no traits I carry And without special depth I sing. But everyone, from crone to baby, Will know me, singer of the spring. Im nightingale, I am a graybird, But like a rainbow is my song. I only have a single habit: To other lands to lure the throng. Im nightingale! What for, then, so Is godless critic with his scorn? Seek, swine, the treasure in a trough, And not in garlands made of thorns! Im nightingale, and, beside singing, No other use can come of me. I am so wondrous beyond reason That Reason bows before my feet!
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Часть текста: Poem to Luminous Brother Poem to Luminous Brother To birds and to poets the Lord all their sustenance gives: I dont reap or sow, but for a second year I exist. And for kind song-poems the people whore also kind Will forgive your errors and sins, too, if any they find. Who needs the art now? Who needs it - I do not know, But to me its air, and I keep singing so. And radiant someone - not Russian, Estonian - stranger - An angel of God? Follows me and protects me from danger. In art he believes, and to me he is brimming with love: "Be yourself, poet: Sing all your songs, stay alive!" And like a poor bird, poet is glad of alms in his plight... O luminous brother, I sing you with song of delight!
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Часть текста: Poem to Refugees Poem to Refugees In these miniature Russian colonies Those who are hiding from lawlessness Their sinful bodies and souls, Interests are so pitiful Feelings vicious and hypocritical: They seek only food and warmth. They all eat - it is only appropriate, And the warmth in our time is important too, Nobody will argue with that. But apart from the warmth and the victuals There are needs mental and spiritual, Besides breakfast and wood and coat. There is theater, symphony and poems, There are paintings, and if in Estonia There is no such delight, My compatriots, Russian terribly, Its your fault that you see things narrowly, And you lose your hearing and sight. If youll find nothing like this within this land And this village except the wheat bread, Maybe at nights we will perform Shows of music and poems, and vocalists We will give majestic performances And perhaps we will dance until dawn. Maybe well declaim aloud Gogols thought (Fess up: you did not read a lot Of his work in your life, dear friends). Maybe take something from Nekrasov And to know travels of Hatteras, if Nietzsche, for one, the powers forbid. But what are such pursuits to you Calling nothing but curses out of you Better revelry, maps and food! Better gossip, intrigue and constant complaints That for long the army should have advanced For your sake to retake Petrograd.
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Часть текста: Brilliant Poem Brilliant Poem I do not want to live my life, like all, Living like squirrels in a hamster wheel, Walking around in circles, being slaves, Afraid of storm and of the ocean waves. I want to live uplifted like an eagle; I want to live conceited like a Creole; Smashing, threatening barriers, sliding by Between the two "forbidden"s intertwined. I want to live, a wise and brilliant man Of all his peers a century ahead And yet in other measures, to exist A fifty years behind my time at least. I want to live, as it behooves to live To him who knows to conjure and conceive New notes from ancient ones and from the past - I want to live the way life lives, at last!
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Часть текста: Poem of Despair Poem of Despair I know nothing, I trust in nothing, I no longer in life see its brighter side. I approach my friend as if he were a lion I need nothing else. I am bored and tired. Someone knifes someone, smothers another.. Everywhere, cheating, lying and greed. Would eyes not see and would ears not hear! Lermontov! Werent you right - "what in world is good?" Even thought is corrupt, even love is deceiving. Theres no fulfilled dream. All is smoke and mirrors. I see no joy in living, see in life no meaning. Im feeling horror. I master fear.