moon is shining somewhere Somewhere there's a sun
July
My third Russian lyrical poet of the year.
His poetryan ode to symbolismincludes a wide and varied range of themes and bold experimentations concerning rhymes and structures a fascinating display of emotions, wit and creativity.
It was a pleasure to contemplate some particular verses which ooze otherworldly beauty and strongly familiar impressions, His language oscillates between an exceptional lyricism and a harsher tone used to depict evocative images of a more violent nature, often when portraying the political scenario of his time.
Nothing here could be labeled as conventional, something that any reader would find refreshing, to say the least,
This collection offers many sides of Blok,
A poet engaging in an impossible quest, Stubbornly, inevitably.
I yearn to live a life of meaning:
Make every thing immortalized,
Make all the formal humanized,
Bring nonexistent into being!
February,
A poet singing to harmony, to differences to the pleasant resemblances and irreconcilable ideas, the intimacy and a necessary distance everything that entails a conversation, a relationship, a marriage, a life.
There are a couple of verses that I still hear from some obscure corner of my mind, A long poem and one of my favorites of this collection,
Because you have seen all the secrets I hide,
Because we are bound by secrets and night,
Guardian Angel
A poet, . . getting drunk A couple of poems were dedicated to an apparently fresh and vivacious beverage that might be the cause of outward reveling or undying mortification: wine.
Its incomparable taste, appealing color and the sensations that followed the empty bottle, I don't drink, so there I was, like the eternal designated driver that I am, with some coffee first, some water later, reading about this remarkable poet nailed to the tavern counter.
. . drunk already, but not through, composing a melody to the night and to his soul, his hopeless soul.
. . drunk and dazed.
A poet, no longer a stranger, that left many of us overawed by the unparalleled magnificence of his writing, something that Andrey Kneller was able to convey, once more, with admirable accuracy and elegance.
Its dark, despite the moon above,
For many, life may turn out better,
Inside my soul, the spring of love
Will not replace the stormy weather.
The nights spread out in the street,
And to my spirits muted stare,
Thats soaked in poison, hot and sweet,
It answers with a deathly glare.
I try to keep my passions down,
Out in the cold and dawning mist,
I wander, lost among the crowd,
Engrossed, with thoughts of only this:
Its dark, despite the moon above.
For many, life may turn out better,
Inside my soul, the spring of love
Will not replace the stormy weather.
January
There is a song on every page that speaks of the ancient night, Of unfading passion and forgettable actions, Of ephemeral infatuation and haunting decisions, Of forgiveness and hopeless evenings, The pale glow of a search for meaning, The opportunities we might have lost, A fear that lingers. The people on the streets we ignored today, The inspiration to which we have relinquished, The memories we cherish, that overwhelm us the ones we wish we had, Words that soothe and harm, Silence that warms and forgets, Strangers waiting at restaurants while the setting sun burns the sky, The thoughts we choose not to share as time, devoid of any emotion, denies a second chance, The things that were never meant to be owned but we are reluctant to let go, The loss of the nonexistent, The indifference toward existence. The people we see. The people we miss.
The ones we'll never be,
Feb,
Also on sitelinkmy blog, Alexander Blok
Sound, rhythm, color and repetition played a crucial part in setting the mood and conveying emotions in his writing.
With subsequent collections, the focus shifted to depicting human psychology, His writing became more ironic and pessimistic, as he struggled to balance his quest for an ideal with his disenchantment in everyday life.
Alexander Blok November,August,was a major poet of the Russian Symbolism movement, His early poetry was dominated by the theme of searching for his ideal beauty, Sound, rhythm, color and repetition played a crucial part in setting the mood and conveying emotions in his writing, With subsequent collections, the focus shifted to depicting human psychology, His writing became more ironic and pessimistic, as he struggled to balance his quest for an ideal with his disenchantment in everyday life.
In the later stages of his career, he wrote predominately about political themes and the changes that were happening in Russia.
To this day, he is considered by many to be the most important Russian poet since Alexander Pushkin, and his work would have a lasting influence on the likes of Anna Akhmatova, Boris Pasternak and Marina Tsvetaeva, among other prominent poets of the Silver Age.
This duallanguage collection of his poetry seeks to represent the continuum of Alexander Blok's growth as a poet, with particular attention paid to the rhythm and melody of his writing.
In my opinion one of the best Russian poets Its dark, despite the moon above,
For many, life may turn out better,
Inside my soul, the spring of love
Will not replace the stormy weather.
The nights spread out in the street,
And to my spirits muted stare,
Thats soaked in poison, hot and sweet,
It answers with a deathly glare.
I try to keep my passions down,
Out in the cold and dawning mist,
I wander, lost among the crowd,
Engrossed, with thoughts of only this:
Its dark, despite the moon above.
For many, life may turn out better,
Inside my soul, the spring of love
Will not replace the stormy weather.
January
When you are standing on my path,
So full of life, so full of beauty,
And yet so wearied,
You only talk about sad things,
You only think about death,
You do not love a soul.
And you despise your beauty
What then Could I offend you
O, no! Im not an oppressor,
Not a deceiver or an arrogant man,
Although I know quite a lot,
And I think too much since my youth,
And Im too occupied with myself.
You see, Im a writer,
A man, who calls everything by its name,
And steals the aroma from a living flower.
Just dont talk about sad things,
Or reflect on endings and new beginnings,
I still dare to think,
That you are only fifteen years old.
And for this reason Id like it,
If you could fall in love with a simple person,
One, who loves the earth and the sky more than
The rhyming or nonrhyming words about the earth and the sky.
Truly, Ill be happy for you,
Since only the one whos in love
Has the right to be called a human.
February,
They will bury us deep, once were dead,
And the grass will then cover the mound,
And well hear: somewhere high, overhead,
A passing shower will water the ground.
From then on, well seek nothing at all,
Waking up from a dream, we will reason:
If its quiet outside
its the fall,
If its turbulent spring is in season.
Its so nice that our drowsy sensations
Wont troubled by grief and delight,
Separation and loves complications
Cannot break, through the coffin, inside.
Its so homely, weve found what we sought
Here, one day, we may just comprehend
How a senseless life differs somewhat
From a sensible one for a man.
October,Though I am devoted to poetry, it's always hard for me to write a review on a book of poetry, especially when that poetry was originally written in a language I do not knowtherefore, take my review with a grain of American iodized salt.
I decided to read some of Blok's work because he is a very influential figure in Russian literature and the influence of his work permeates the novel "Dr.
Zhivago," whose movie adaptation I adore and therefore a novel I hope to conquer, These selected works are arranged in chronological order and the gradual maturation of his work is evident because of this structure, with the earlier poems more focused on structure than substance and the latter poems growing increasingly serious and political.
Blok's poetry is, however, exceedingly accessible, addressing and inspired by subjects and issues as different as the feelings of a first love and the metaphysical expectations of an artist/poet and his or her work.
Blok's strength is in his imagery with many of his poems beginning with an observation of a seemingly mundane event, such as a young choir girl singing, and expanding into the insecurities of the human condition.
His rhythm and musicality is masterful, though some of his poems seem to me exceedingly mawkish and/or lachrymose, This is an excellent introduction to this poet and I highly recommend it for both poetry lovers and poetry novies.
""Stars,,
Tell me the cause of grief!"
And he looks at the,
"Stars,,
Where did such anguish come from"
And the tell him,
The tell him everything".
.