Poems of N. Gumilyov

Memory

And that's all life! Whirling, singing,
Seas, deserts, cities,
Flickering reflection
Lost forever.

The flames are raging, the trumpets are blowing
And the red horses are flying
Then moving lips
Happiness seems to be repeated.

And here again delight and sorrow,
Again, as before, as always,
The sea waves its gray mane,
Deserts and cities rise.

When, finally, rebelled
From sleep, I will be me again, -
Simple Indian dozing
On a sacred evening by the stream?

End of June - beginning of July 1917

So what is this verse about?

Before examining the context in which it was written, whether there is a hypothesis that Gumilev was looking at revolutionary Russia in the 17th year and wanted to wake up from this madness, let us turn to the direct perception and deepening of understanding of the meaning and symbols that, upon first reading, slip past our eyes ...

1st stanza- The image of a flying bird - the seas of the desert, the city. The perception of the author has already seen all this somewhere, but that, genuine, is somehow lost forever.

2nd stanza- The first thought - through love, through thoughts of happiness, the creature of the author touches the mystery of Ancestral memory, the memories that appear in the 3rd stanza, and the understanding of oneself, which appears in the 4th stanza.
The second thought is that the first two lines are the image of the Apocalypse - a flame will descend on the earth, the archangel will sound the trumpet, riders will fly on horseback. This is what is described schematically in two lines. How does this thought change the meaning of the stanza? It is likely that the moving lips are something heavenly, appearing in dialogue with the soul after the apocalypse *. But why "exciting lips"? What do they care about there? M. b. we are still talking about the emotional and romantic recollection of the author, when his essence is abstracted from the current reality, is experiencing an apocalypse, and through love gains an ancestral memory.

3rd stanza- That is, through his exciting lips, the feeling of the illusory life disappears, flickering like a reflection of something genuine; through love, genuine delight and grief appear, which existed transcendentally, somewhere "as before, as always." He comes out of the looking glass to reality, this is just a plot for filming, how from the soundless first paragraph he found himself in front of the real sea, foaming, as deserts and cities rise from the depths of memory.

4th stanza- The fourth stanza is exactly the meaning that lies on the surface and becomes obvious almost from the first reading: when will I wake up in true reality, where I am an Indian who dozed off by a stream. Quite a well-known story of Taoism and Buddhism about Lao Tzu. Meanwhile, the author has a feeling of a mistake, an easy offense, which he made in a past life - to doze off by the stream on a sacred evening. Here it is, the reason for "lost forever."

Well, now it is interesting to read both professional interpretations, and to deal with the realities of the context.
Was this poem youthful esotericism? Comparing the poem with what the author wrote three years later, "Memory", you find there the hero of the verse Prapamyat as one of the stages of the author's life passed through. They must be read in pairs.

* When I pondered this, for the first time for myself I realized that in Blok's poem "A girl sang in a church choir" is the same Child that "and only high up at the royal doors, a child who participates in mysteries cried" - this is the baby Jesus, and not just some kind of baby who for some reason found himself high up in the church and sobbing. He is involved in mysteries. The Royal Doors are the gates of the altar part of the temple, it is there that the Mother of God is depicted with the baby. The girl sang and He cried.

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***
Answer me, cardboard master ...

Answer me, cardboard master,
What did you think while making the album
For poems about the most tender passion
Thick in a real volume?

Cardboard maker, stupid, stupid
You see, my suffering is over,
The sweet lips were too tight
The heart never trembled.

Passion sang a swan song,
Never will she sing again
Just like a woman with a man
Never understand each other.

“There are big stars in this world,
There are seas and mountains in this world
Here she loved Beatrice Dante,
Here the Achaeans ravaged Troy!
If you don't forget now
A girl with huge eyes
A girl with skillful speech
The girl who doesn't need you
And then you are not worthy to live. "

***
Girl

At times, unable to cope with the melancholy
And unable to look and breathe,
I, closing my eyes with my hand,
I'm starting to dream of you.

Not about a thin and languid girl,
How everyone would see you
And about a sweet and modest girl,
Leaning over the book of Musset.

The day you knew for the first time
That there is India, the wonder of wonders,
That there are tigers and holy palms -
For me, this day has not disappeared.

Sometimes you looked at the sea
And a thunderstorm rose over the sea,
And quite real grief
Eyes covered with tears.

Why are the coasts silent
Not to contribute to the palaces of gold?
Why along the glowing waves
Seraphim does not come to you?

And I know that in a child's bed
You couldn't sleep in the evenings,
The heart was beating, and the eyes were shining,
You dreamed of a big fate.

Drowning headlong in a blanket
You wanted to be brighter than the sun
For people to call you
Happiness, your best hope.

This world has not done a lie with you,
You suddenly cut through the darkness
You were a blinding star
Though not all, only me.

But now you are not the same, you forgot
Everything that you thought you would become as a child.
Where is the hope? The whole world is like a grave.
Where is happiness? I can't breathe.

And, your mysterious interlocutor,
Here, I give my soul
For your little children's apron
For your broken doll.

***
Delicately unprecedented joy ...

Delicately unprecedented joy
Touched my shoulder
And now I don't need anything
I don't want you or happiness.

I would only accept one thing without arguing -
Quiet, quiet, golden peace
Yes twelve thousand feet of the sea
Over my broken head.

What to think, how sweet it would be
That peace and eternal rumble tormented,
If only I had never lived
I never sang or loved.

***
DISCOVERY OF AMERICA.
Song one

The heart is drunk again with a fresh wind,
A secret voice whispers: "Leave everything!" -
In front of the door above the weeds bush
The sky is cloudless and blue
Every puddle smells of the ocean
Every stone has a breath of desert.

We are with you, Muse, fast-footed,
We love willows along the steppe road,
Measured squeak of wheels and in the distance
White sail on the big river.
This world, so holy and strict,
That there is no place in it for empty longing.

Ah, in one divine move,
Inert, we have been given a transformation,
In it we are not only a reflection,
It becomes alive who lived ...
On earthly ways, I lived in a network,
God placed you with a rose of veins!

And it flows and sings through the veins
Joyfully raging blood;
There is no end to vows and betrayals
There is no end to funny changes
And the retarded are urged on again
Lash of pain Hunger and Love.

A wild beast runs from the forest to the forest,
The crab crawls ashore in the moonlight
And the hawk wanders above, -
Hunger and Almighty Passion
Everyone is sick - flying and running,
Floating deep in black

Merry, unexpected and bloody
Joy, sorrow and fun
A wild and captivating land;
But most beautiful is the thirst for glory,
Kings will be born for her
Ships are sailing in the oceans.

Well, Muse, you and I are not enough,
Though we are tender, to be always together!
Sorrow for the highest in your voice:
Do you want us to sail away
To the countries of backgammon, gold, coral
In the first caravel of the Admiral?

See? the city ... the breeze of the banners ...
The sun is shining, bright as in childhood,
The bells are ringing
Herald of joy, not disaster,
And over the port, like a heavy moan,
A rumble of delight and greetings is heard.

Where is Columbus? Passer-by, point it out!
- “In his cell, he is taking apart the drawings
With our old Prior Juan.
There are so many lies in these old maps
And you shouldn't joke with the ocean
Even the most daring captains. "

Falls into the patterned window
Gold and purple Compliments,
Like in an enchanted cave
Dream and reality merge into one
Time is as quiet as a spindle
Fairies-tales of grandfather's beliefs.

In expensive chain mail Christopher,
The old prior in festive decoration,
And behind them he looks up
The one whose spirit is a winged meteor
The one whose world is in holy impermanence,
Whose name is the Muse of Far Wanderings.

The fragments of phrases are strange and proud:
“The way to the south? Diaz was already there! "...
- Yes, but who heard his story? .. -
“... Near the country of the Great Mogul
Islands "... - But where? The sea is bare.
The way to the south ... - “Senor! And Marco Polo? "

Here the flag flew over the old tower,
They knocked on the door - a conventional sign, -
But friends don't hear. In a heated debate -
What an ebb tide growing in the sea for them! ..
So many papers have not been sorted out,
There are so many stories to be told!

Only when the mist descended into the gardens,
It became quiet and it became cool,
Muse guessed her secret duty,
The admiral came up and imperiously,
Like a child, she led away to glory
From his desk.

SONG SECOND

Twenty days since the caravels sailed,
Oncoming waves breaking through the chest;
Twenty days as compass arrows
Instead of maps, they showed the way
And how the most vigorous, the most courageous
I could not fall asleep without disturbing dreams.

And no one on the ship running
To marvelous countries, reserved bushes,
I did not dare to think about the future;
My thoughts were empty and dark;
Gloomy measured the bottom with a lot,
Sails - the canvas was repaired.

Astrologers on the evening of their sail
Calculated star events
Their words were: "all lies."
The wind on the left churned the ocean
And frightened with the horror of the flood
Dark prophecies of the gitans.

And in vain from the pulpit the prelates
They promised them so many rewards
They promised knightly armor,
Kingdoms were promised instead of wages,
And about the golden Indian garden
So many stanzas and ballads thundered ...

Everything went like a dream! And in the present -
A vague premonition of trouble
Instead of fame, hard work
And in the evening - a burning ghost,
Wickedly waiting and cruelly revenge -
The sun is in the abyss of fiery water.

Jose went mad at first
With an ax he went to the admiral,
And then he hid in the distant hold
And sobbed ... The team did not listen,
And an unhappy clouded mind
There was one in the grip of terrible thoughts.

They sat on the ropes at night
And they whispered - but I wanted to howl:
“If you follow the sun for a long time,
Then bloody troubles cannot be relieved:
The damned sun washes in the abyss,
The sun hates the spy! "

But Columbus forgot the rioters
He is silent about their laziness and drunkenness,
The whole day on the bridge is ready
Like a lover, dream of space,
In the sound of the waves he hears a sweet call
Assurances of the Muse of Distant Wanderings.

And the sailors humbled themselves before him:
So over the steep the evil bulls
They trample, they are driven by the mountain shepherd,
In their hearts there is despair of longing,
Black terror nests in their brains,
The gaze is fierce ... and they are all submissive!

But not in the city, and not under a spear
To swarthy and cruel picadors,
Admiral with a cold gaze
The herd is timid,
And there, into another being,
To new, better grasses and lakes.

If a wise astrologer is bright,
Seeing an unknown comet;
If, having found a new flower,
The boy does not feel his legs under him;
If there is no higher happiness for the poet,
How to give an unexpected shine to a sonnet;

If as a gift we are given
The depth of undiscovered thoughts
She who does not know the bottom,
Older than suns and forever young ...
If a mortal sees a reflection of paradise
Only by relentlessly discovering:

Columbus is lighter than the groom
On the threshold of the joys of the night
He sees a miracle with the spiritual eye,
A whole world, unknown to the prophets,
That lies in the depths of blue
Where west meets east.

These waters are cursed by God!
These scary reefs have no name!
But towards the greedy dream
They are already floating, floating like promises,
Branches, grasses and flowers in the sea,
There are birds of strange beauty in the sky.

SONG THREE

- "Shore, shore! .." And repaired the banner
Measured by biting the thread with my teeth,
And holding his head with his hands
I didn’t dare to omit them at once.
Free wind blew with sails,
The caravels continued to sail.

Who he was, the first, light-eyed,
What, seeing from the high deck
There is a lonely island in the wild sea,
Screamed like kites scream?
Old helmsman, knight or pirate,
Now he is Columbus's younger brother!

That one has calculated according to tables,
Drawings and faded pages
At night I guessed from prophetic dreams, -
I saw myself on a bright afternoon
The other, like watchful birds,
Only to the birds, Muse, to them and to us.

Like children are jumping sailors
I'm so happy ... no, I can't ...
There is a funny and long-nosed crane
Flew to the white cliffs
V blue sky describing the arc.
Here is the shore ... we are on the shore.

Aged, fully clothed,
Pater performed the divine service,
He prayed: - "Oh God, do not leave
Sinful us “... - singing sounded all around,
Slow, coppery Latin
Intermarried with the noise of the deserts.

And it seemed the same glades
We have often dreamed of delirium ...
Also on snake vines
The monkeys ran screaming;
The thistle blossomed; like sinners in hell
Cockatoo squealed loudly ...

It poured just as sweetly into our breasts
The scent of unseen flowers
Each step was just as strangely new
The same ones came out of the bushes,
Smiling and screaming for a miracle
Red as copper, naked people.

Oh! only one did not dream with us,
Only one kept anxiety in his soul, "
Though at first, bowing like a paladin
Devout and he prayed to God,
Though now he kisses the dust of the valleys,
Grass stalks and a dusty road.

Like all sailors, the chest is naked,
In the left ear, a copper earring
And on a swarthy neck a thread of coral,
But the mouth (their secret is so strict)
A gaze where the thought has not ceased to burn,
They gave us, Muse, an admiral.

He's sad, this man
Passed by sea, as by land,
Like checkers moving souls
From native villages, peaceful neg
To the wild mouths of nameless rivers ...
What is he whispering! .. Muse, listen, listen!

- “I have accomplished my high feat,
But the spirit languishes, as in a dark crypt.
O Great God, God of Strength,
If I deserve a reward
Instead of glory and splendor
Give me shame, the Most High, give me chains!

- “The strong fur is so proud of his wine,
But when the guilt was gone,
Let the owner throw the pitiful lump!
I am the shell, but without pearls,
I am the stream that was dammed
Launched, now no longer needed. "

Yes! Will awaken in the mob of the marketplace
Only laughter is pointlessly dumb
Anger in the monks, hatred in the nobility
A genius accused of quackery!
As a lover, different for the game
They are abandoned by the Muse of Far Wanderings ...

I was silent, covering my eyes with my cloak.
Like a string pulled tight
The heart was beating fast and elastic
As if in a dream I heard that my friend
She whispered to me: “Do not grieve that
Who is called Columbus ... Let's go! "

SONG FOUR.

We climbed the mountain ledge
So high beyond the eagle's nest;
The evening threw off the golden robe,
And she lay down in the west;
Stars lit up in the sky; from below
A blue haze was drifting.

Muse you tremble as in a fever
The gaze is on fire and the curls are in disarray.
What's the matter? Riddles solved
We have cleverly untangled the net ...
Calm down, Muse to sing,
We need a voice as clear as copper!

New world, like an innocent girl! ..
Who will shed girlish blood?
Who drank with a squeal like a wine enchant,
Intoxicate the forest is still deserted,
With a sharp plow he will cut this new
And pay with flour for love?

I know! The heart of the girls is impassive
How are they, do not torment anyone:
The fire of the swamps will poison the darkness
An obscure noise will deafen the soul,
A dangerous jaguar will sneak up
Winner, to your lot.

Scream ... movement ... and sink into the abyss
The one that the nights of the North are starless,
Too much seen the gaze.
Here love brings disease with it
Here plants cover sweet poison,
And the gods talk about blood.

But in vain! The will of man
Neither poisons nor gods can hold back!
In the depths of the caves, along the banks
Quiet rivers, through thickets and ditches,
Everywhere, everywhere, near and far,
They will sing, there will be human speeches.

Rise up the curtain of times
And dispel the gloomy spell!
Every fallen will be avenged
By the force of a return blow
The call of freedom will be thrown here by Washington,
And it will pass like lightning, Pizarro.

The girl who played with fate
Will become a tender wife
A dear companion in work ...
Waterfalls with icy foam
Islets forgotten in the swamp
You will revive for the life of the spirit!

Cities will rise one after another
Children's laughter will burst out there, and grandfathers
Have quiet conversations
Remembering the old years ...
But the madmen, they will go there,
Where the banner of victory has not yet blown.

Because their God is the God of betrayals!
Traveler, He walks over the starry sowing,
He wants change all the time;
The whiteness of His naked knees,
A sigh that sounds like a sunshine
Only angels and virgins dream.

A strange God who knows no evil
Honest as a flying arrow
Stranger to both the circle and the corner,
A slender God with a soul drunk with dreams,
With easy and quick steps
In the distance and walking over the worlds!

Give us his commandment,
Give us a sign that you came from there!
Every messenger was hitherto Judas.
We are tired. We are so hungry for a miracle.
We are so hungry for true love ...
- Be like God: go, fly, swim!

* * *
In memory of Gumilyov

Proudly and clearly you died, died, as Musa taught.
Now, in the silence of the Elysee, he speaks to you about the flying
Copper Petra and about the wild African winds - Pushkin

* * *
Abu Seraph kissed me
And he gave me a drink from my hand ...
He rode north all day
And only in the evening he reached the banks of the river ....

Where the Englishman promised to give
A pack of cartridges and a new machine gun,
Instead, he made me wait a long time -
Until the sun falls to the west.

We lay next to us - Abu Seraf
He covered me from ambush bullets ...
The jackal howled madly in the sands,
And the machine gun drew a pattern of fire….

“Abu Seraph! He has already finished shooting,
Grab the mane tightly and quickly!
I know we can overtake the desert
Leaving several deaths in the sand "...

I kiss the silenced lips ...
The traitor came up - his eyes are like ice
He is the voice of fate, cruel as steel
“Calm down,” he says, and takes the bridle ...

* * *
Almost 20 years have passed, so what? ...

No, we won't take off the mask -
Perhaps there is emptiness behind it.
Mad Uranus rushes there in the invisible sky.
The father of that country is a child eater, and a star
There he reigns instead of the cross,
And cripples live there.
Their cunning faces have the guise of people
All countries and peoples,
All races, even all generations.
And in their blinding millions of candles burn,
In glass cylinders, burning billions of villages.
This insane country will perish, perish!
Will die! - it was revealed to me from above:
Her soul appeared to me
All in tears, completely ill,
When I fell
When I fell off a freezing roof in winter.
I was flying head downward
And I saw them fall down
From the firmament of heaven to a formless dark pit
The cardboard cubes of the desert capitals here -
Huge canvas
Primed, wedged into a frame.
All white, all white
And the rows of mounds of white.
Calculating tone -
Gentlemen, raise all the stakes ...
And Pavel Ivanovich covers his tracks with a broom
On bloody clay
Along the bottom of a shallow groove.
October 6, 2006.

* * *
Askina poetry.

In the early morning when the light wakes up
Between houses, between trees, - distant ...
Somewhere out there, behind the networks, like cellular nonsense,
Lost - so lonely -
Yellow smiley: two dots and a parenthesis are simple icons,
But behind them hovered in the air
This asterisk is in uppercase, almost
Not noticeable, but gave them
Kiss ... But the star disappears from heaven:
Sun rises - Venus sets
Here the tram rang, the Mercedes rustled
By the window ... so the measure is fulfilled
Morning ...
December 27, 2006.

* * *
Another Aska's poetry.

What will you see in the dim glow of the astral?
Enchantress? The mistress of the northern blizzards?
That she fled to the north of the earth to this city,
Throwing the south sticky and sticky with lust.

Here in the Nordic city she braids
Your dark braids, looking blue -
Before her, like a crystal sea, shimmers
An electronic eye open to darkness.

In it particles are obedient to her command
Burnt hearts in negative circles.
Her fingers are fast and flutter like birds
Spreading the eyes of blinded snows

It's Dinah! - As a song rushes through space ...
Its nine tones will pierce the frozen metal:
In every home, and in every bed will wake up
Someone who dreamed about it vaguely in his youth.

This is Dinah - her mother calls her that,
Lost years in the glow of Moscow nights,
She did not understand her daughter, which is endlessly stubborn
Pours out into the darkness the light of rays invisible to the world.
December 29, 2006.

* * *
Askina poet 2007.

A little funny ball is dancing in the Askin window
Next to a silk heart - a children's doll-Columbine
This Askin's birthday masks the secrets of the virgin:
There, in unknown spaces ... a knight rushes on a horse ...
The sorcerer who intertwined his gray hair with a spell
With golden hair of beautiful, stupefying the queen
He must strike boldly, and carry her into the alcoves,
Where her body will be exposed on scarlet veils.
So in the play of lights and passion, in the dark, gloomy halls of the castle
A beautiful dance of words, hints, moans will be played ...
To virtual coition, to alchemical marriage
There the queen bends, drunk with freedom ...
And her fingers will weaken without touching any more keys,
Only the ball will jump over the satiated nature….
February 13, 2007.

* * *
To the poet N. Gumilyov

Look into my bright green pupil -
Clean, clean, like the waters of the Neva.
In this daytime world, I am completely alone.
I am an Indian of the Owl clan.

Our glorious wars long gone
For the whitish heavenly fog.
I alone was caught by the people of the earth
Into their cruel iron trap

They give me beads - a glass dream.
I put them around my neck in silence.
For me their dream is death knell
This day is their lot.

Mine is night, and the smell of animals.
A yellow in black luminous eye.
Night. Not a damp twilight of shadows.
Abyss, darkness and lethal caresses.

A word is born in torment and torture,
Timid, quietly goes through life,
It is a wanderer, from a ladle of gold
Drinking leftovers on a barbaric feast.

You will go out to nature! Nature is hostile
Everything about her scares, a lot of everything about her,
The fanfare of the prayer always sounds in it
Not to your and unnecessary God.

Death? But first, this poet's tale
Calculate the suspension carefully and wisely, -
It will be a pity for neither life nor light,
But you will regret the regal thought.

Well, this is a dignified and austere path:
Cry with the piercing autumn wind
With a beggar beggar hide in a den,
To fetter gloomy thoughts with a meter.

Nikolay Gumilyov "Prapamyat"

And that's all life! Whirling, singing,
Seas, deserts, cities,
Flickering reflection
Lost forever.

The flames are raging, the trumpets are blowing
And the red horses are flying
Then moving lips
Happiness seems to be repeated.

And here again delight and sorrow,
Again, as before, as always,
The sea waves its gray mane,
Deserts and cities rise.

When, finally, rebelled
From sleep, I will be me again, -
Simple Indian dozing
On a sacred evening by the stream?

Nikolay Gumilev "The Omen"

We were leaving Southampton
And the sea was blue
When we landed at Le Havre,
Then it turned black.

I believe in omens
How I believe in morning dreams.
Lord have mercy on our souls:
We are in great trouble.

Nikolay Gumilev "Proposition"

I said - do you want, do you want?
Can I be loved by you?
You prophesy strange happiness
With his throaty voice.

And I cry a lot for happiness
My home is a home of stars and songs
And there will be sweet anxiety
Grow with your name.

“And they will say - what is he? Only a violin
Weeping obediently, he
Her single smile
Generates this wondrous ringing.

And they will say - the moon and the sea,
Doubly reflected light -
And after - what a grief,
That a woman is not the same! "

But without answering me a word,
She passed thoughtfully
She didn’t do me any harm
And life is still bright.

Seraphim descend to me,
I sing midnight and day
But instead of a beloved woman
I keep the dried flower.

Nikolay Gumilev "Warning"

From Japanese

I am most pleased
To see your bright gaze,
I like it best
Talk to you.

And yet we must
End our meetings
So that you do not know about them
Silly neighbors.

I'm not about good fame
I care about mine
And without good fame you
You won't want a cute one.