Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok

(28 November 1880 – 7 August 1921 / Saint Petersburg)

Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok Poems

1. The Twelve 1/1/2004
2. A Girl Sang A Song 1/1/2004
3. Don'T Fear Death 1/1/2004
4. I Wait For You... 1/1/2004
5. I Prefer The Gorgeous Freedom 1/1/2004
6. The Stranger 1/1/2004
7. To The Muse 1/1/2004
8. Gamajun, The Prophetic Bird 1/1/2004
9. He, Who Was Born 1/1/2004
10. The Faithless Shadows. 1/1/2004
11. On The Field Of Kulicovo 1/1/2004
12. The Death Of Grandfather 1/1/2004
13. Halls Grew Darker 1/1/2004
14. Servus -- Reginae 1/1/2004
15. The Scythians 4/15/2010
16. Unknown Woman 4/15/2010
17. Snow Maiden 4/15/2010
18. Street Circus 4/15/2010
19. The Snowy Spring Is Raging Mad 4/15/2010
20. Those Born In Obscure Times 4/15/2010
21. From The Twelve 4/15/2010
22. I Apprehend You... 4/15/2010
23. Night, Streets, The Lantern 11/20/2013
24. Do You Remember? 11/20/2013
25. This Night On Track 11/25/2013
26. The Artist 11/20/2013
27. Into Crimson Dark 11/20/2013
28. All Perished, All! 11/20/2013
29. Why, Why Forever 11/25/2013
30. Spring Breaks In Rivers 11/25/2013
31. All On The Earth 11/20/2013
32. And I Shall Watch 11/20/2013
33. The Earthly Heart 11/20/2013
34. I Seek Salvation 11/20/2013
35. I Slow Was Losing 11/20/2013
36. There'Re The Moments 11/25/2013
37. I Know, There's My Death 11/20/2013
38. My Monastery, Where 11/20/2013
39. My Sweet Friend 11/20/2013
40. In The Sea Of High Grass 11/20/2013
Best Poem of Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok

The Twelve

III
Our sons have gone
to serve the Reds
to serve the Reds
to risk their heads!

O bitter,bitter pain,
Sweet living!
A torn overcoat
an Austrian gun!

-To get the bourgeosie
We'll start a fire
a worldwide fire, and drench it
in blood-
The good Lord bless us!


-O you bitter bitterness,
boring boredom,
deadly boredom.

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 ...

Read the full of The Twelve

Servus -- Reginae

Don't call. Without any summons
I'll reach the shrine.
And droop my head in even silence
To your feet fine.

I will your orders shyly listen
And will remain
To catch our meetings, short and instant,
And wish again.

[Hata Bildir]