Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky Poems
|1.||A Gas Butterfly||1/1/2004|
|2.||After The Concert||4/21/2010|
|4.||Among The Worlds||4/23/2012|
|6.||Bow And Strings||1/1/2004|
|10.||I Thought That The Heart...||4/21/2010|
|11.||My Life's Burden...||4/21/2010|
|17.||The Anguish Of A Mirage||4/21/2010|
|18.||The Autumnal Romance||4/21/2010|
|19.||The Bow And The Strings||4/27/2012|
|20.||The Candles Are Brought In||4/21/2010|
|21.||The Old Barrel Organ||4/21/2010|
|22.||The Pine Of Reminiscence||4/21/2010|
|23.||The Spring Romance||4/21/2010|
|24.||To The Poet||4/21/2010|
|26.||You'Re Again With Me||4/21/2010|
In midst of waves, there are the silver beads
And scraped by time paints of the white enamel …
I so like the morns which autumn breeds,
For their caress, so short and so gentle.
And I do like the foam on the shore,
When it again is whitening in mire,
And, greedy, I am hiding here a store
Of hazy days, while skies are full of fire.
But somewhere there, they’re roaming in flame,
The same ones as I am, without name and number,
And somebody’s young being – just the same –
Instead of me, is ceasing in sad amber.
After The Concert
The blackened skies have reached the garden walk;
Yet my poor heart tonight cannot be not the restless…
The lights that have been failed, the lost of sounds talk,
Are they the remnants of the dream in sadness?
Oh, how sad it was, the satin of her dress,
Her breast was very white, among the straps black fair!
How sorry I was then to see her eyes distressed,
Her hands in snowy gloves, resigned as to a prayer!