Поиск по творчеству и критике
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1. Стихотворения

Входимость: 2. Размер: 44кб.

Часть текста: Исповедь Июль 1914 К смерти К стихам Кавказское Клеопатра Колыбельная Конец Демона Кукушка Ленинград в марте 1941 Ленинградские элегии. Пятая Ленинградские элегии. Четвертая Летний сад Лишняя песенка Любовная песенка Любовь Майский снег Мартовская элегия Маскарад в парке Мелхола Милому Моему городу Молитва Мужество Муза Музе Музыка На Смоленском Над водой Надпись на книге Надпись на неоконченном портрете Надпись на портрете Нас четверо (Комаровские наброски) Наследница Наяву Новогодняя баллада Ночью О. Мандельштаму Обман Он любил Освобожденная Ответ (Какие странные слова) Отрывок Отрывок из поэмы (В то время я гостила на земле) Памяти 19 июля 1914 Памяти Александра Блока Памяти Анты Памяти Бориса Пильняка Памяти друга Памяти М.А. Булгакова Памяти М.М.З. Памяти Н.В.Н. Памяти Н.П. Первое возвращение Первый дальнобойный в Ленинграде Песенка (Таинственной невстречи) Песенка (Я на солнечном восходе) Песня о песне Песня последней встречи Побег Победителям Подвал памяти Подмосковное Подражание И.Ф.Анненскому Портрет автора в молодости Последнее возвращение Последнее стихотворение Последний тост Последняя песенка Последняя роза Похороны Почти в альбом Поэма без героя Предыстория Приморский сонет Причитание (Господеви поклонитеся) Причитание (Ленинградскую беду) Про стихи Нарбута Прогулка Путем всея земли Пушкин Разлука (Вечерний и наклонный) Разлука (Вот и берег северного моря) Распятие Реквием Родная земля Рыбак Сад Сероглазый король Смерть Софокла Смятение Современница Согражданам Сожженная тетрадь Сон (Был вещим этот сон или не вещим) Сон (Я знала, я снюсь тебе) Сонет Сонет-эпилог (Не пугайся, - я еще похожей) Стансы...

2. * * * (He walked over fields and over village)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: He walked over fields and over village, And asked people from afar: "Where is she, where is the happy glimmer Of her eyes that are gray stars? Here the final days of spring Come along, in turbid fire. Still more frequent, still more tender Are the dreams I have of her." And he came in the dark city In the quiet evening time He was thinking then of Venice And of London all the same. At the church both tall and dark Stepped on shining stairs' granite And he prayed then of the coming Meeting with his first delight. And above the altar made of gold Flamed away the garden of God's rays: "Here she is, here is the happy glimmer Of gray joyous stars that are her eyes."

3. White Flock

Входимость: 2. Размер: 10кб.

Часть текста: the spring arrives there are such days) * * * (Best for me loudly the gaming-poems to say) * * * (Black road wove ahead of me) * * * (Bow of moon I see, I see) * * * (City vanished, the last house's window) * * * (Did for this, and for this only) * * * (Did not scold me, did not praise me) * * * (Divine angel, who betrothed us) * * * (Every evening I receive) * * * (From memory of you I will remove that day) * * * (God is unkind to gardeners and reapers) * * * (Has my fate really been so altered) * * * (He walked over fields and over village) * * * (He was jealous, fearful and tender) * * * (How can you look at Nieva) * * * (How I love, how I loved to stare) * * * (How often did I curse) * * * (How spacious are these squares) * * * (I came over to the pine forest) * * * (I do not count mortal days) * * * (I dream less of him, dear God be gloried) * * * (I have ceased and desisted from smiling) * * * (I have visions of hilly Pavlovsk) * * * (I know, that you are my reward) * * * (I myself have freely chosen) * * * (I remember you only rarely) * * * (I see capital through the flurry) * * * (I was born not late and not early) * * * (I will lead a man to dear one) * * * (I will quietly in the churchyard) * * * (Immortelle's dry and pink. On the fresh heaven) * * * (In boat or in horsecart) * * * (In intimacy there exists a line) * * * (In Kievan temple of the divine wisdom) * * * (In the sleep to me is given) * * * (Instead of wisdom - experience, bare) * * * (It seems as though the voice of man) * * * (Just like a cold noreaster) * * * (Like a white stone at the bottom of the well) * * * (My shadow has remained there and is angstful) * * * (My voice is weak, but will does not get weaker) * * * (No, my prince, I am not the one) * * *...

4. July 1914

Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.

Часть текста: I Smells like burning. For four weeks now The dry ground on the swamplands bakes. Today even birds did not sing songs And the aspen-tree does not shake. Sun has stopped in divine displeasure Easter rain did not pelt fields hard. A one-legged passerby came here And alone said in the yard: "Awful times near. For freshly dug graves There will be not be enough place soon. Expect pest, expect plague, expect coward, And eclipses of Sun and Moon. But the enemy won't get to divide Our lands for his fun: Holy Mary will spread on her own Over great sorrows a white gown" II From the burning forests is flying Sweet smell of the evergreens. Over children soldiers' wives are moaning Cry of widows through village rings. Not in vain were the prayers rendered, The earth was thirsty for rain: The stomped-over fields with red dampness Were covered and covered remain. Low, low is the empty heaven, And quiet is the praying one's voice: "They will wound your most holy body And cast dice about your acts of choice."

5. * * * (How spacious are these squares)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: How spacious are these squares, How resonant bridges and stark! Heavy, peaceful, and starless Is the covering of the dark. And we walk on the fresh snow As if we were mortal people. That we are together this hour Unseparable - is it not a miracle? The knees go unwittingly weaker It seems there's no air - so long! You are my life's only blessing, You are the sun of my song. Now the dark buildings are stirring And I'll fall on earth as they shake - Inside of my village garden I do not fear to awake.