Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
During the last period of his life, Blok emphasized political themes, pondering the messianic destiny of his country (Vozmezdie, 1910–21; Rodina, 1907–16; Skify, 1918). Influenced by Solovyov's doctrines, he had vague apocalyptic apprehensions and often vacillated between hope and despair. "I feel that a great event was coming, but what it was exactly was not revealed to me", he wrote in his diary during the summer of 1917. Quite unexpectedly for most of his admirers, he accepted the October Revolution as the final resolution of these apocalyptic yearnings.
Blok was born in Saint Petersburg, into a sophisticated and intellectual family. Some of his relatives were ... more »
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Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok Poems
III Our sons have gone to serve the Reds to serve the Reds
I Prefer the Gorgeous Freedom
I prefer the gorgeous freedom, And I fly to lands of grace, Where in wide and clear meadows All is good, as dreams, and blest.
A Girl Sang a Song
A girl sang a song in the temple's chorus, About men, tired in alien lands, About the ships that left native shores, And all who forgot their joy to the end.
Don't Fear Death
Don't fear death in earthly travels. Don't fear enemies or friends. Just listen to the words of prayers, To pass the facets of the dreads.
The restaurants on hot spring evenings Lie under a dense and savage air. Foul drafts and hoots from dunken revelers Contaminate the thoroughfare.
I Wait For You...
I wait for you. The years in silence pass And as the image, one, I wait for you again. The distance is in flame -- and clear one as glass,
To the Muse
In your hidden memories There are fatal tidings of doom... A curse on sacred traditions, A desecration of happiness;
Gamajun, the Prophetic Bird
On waters, spread without end, Dressed with the sunset so purple, It sings and prophesies for land, Unable to lift the smashed wings' couple...
He, who was born
He, who was born in stagnant year Does not remember own way. We, kids of Russia's years of fear, Remember every night and day.
The Faithless Shadows.
The faithless shadows of day are running And high and clear is the call of bells, Steps of the church are blazed as with the lightning, Their stones are alive and wait for your light steps.
On the Field of Kulicovo
The river stretched. It flows, idly grieves, And washes both banks. In steppe, above light clay of cliffs Rinks mourn in ranks.
The Death of Grandfather
We waited commonly for sleep or even death. The instances were wearisome as ages. But suddenly the wind's refreshing breath Touched through the window the Holy Bible's pages:
Halls grew darker
Halls grew darker and somehow faded. Grates of windows drowned in black. Every knight, every beautiful lady Knew the tiding: "The Queen's deadly sick."
Servus -- Reginae
Don't call. Without any summons I'll reach the shrine. And droop my head in even silence To your feet fine.
Comments about Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
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Our sons have gone
to serve the Reds
to serve the Reds
to risk their heads!
O bitter,bitter pain,
A torn overcoat
an Austrian gun!
-To get the bourgeosie
We'll start a fire
a worldwide fire, and drench it
The good Lord bless us!
-O you bitter bitterness,
This is how I will
spend my time.
This is how I will
scratch my head,
munch on seeds,
some sunflower seeds,
play with my knife
play with ...