Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

(1886 - 1921 / Russia)

Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev Poems

1. Oh, How Silent Is The Nature 1/1/2004
2. Only Serpents 1/1/2004
3. The Descendents Of Cain 1/1/2004
4. Sonnet 1/1/2004
5. To The People Of The Future 1/1/2004
6. Dreams 1/1/2004
7. Shame 1/1/2004
8. She 1/1/2004
9. Don Juan 1/1/2004
10. Children Song 4/13/2010
11. Forest 4/13/2010
12. Kha 4/13/2010
13. Like Undistinguishable Horses 4/13/2010
14. Nature 4/13/2010
15. Oh, How Silent Is The Nature 4/13/2010
16. Only Serpents 4/13/2010
17. Poet 4/13/2010
18. Porcelain Pavilion 4/13/2010
19. Reader Of Books 4/13/2010
20. Three Wives Of A Mandarin 4/13/2010
21. Union 4/13/2010
22. The Road 4/13/2010
23. Theater 4/13/2010
24. Moon Over The Sea 4/13/2010
25. Laos 4/13/2010
26. To A Poet 1/1/2004
27. Annam 4/13/2010
28. The Gates Of Paradise 1/1/2004
29. The Prophets 1/1/2004
30. It Was Not Once 1/1/2004
31. The Clever Demon 1/1/2004
32. Like Undistinguishable Horses 1/1/2004
33. The Word 1/1/2004
34. The Right Way 1/1/2004
35. Happiness 4/13/2010
36. Wanderer 4/13/2010
37. Young Girls 4/13/2010
38. The Trees 1/1/2004
39. The Other One 1/1/2004
40. The Conquistador 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

Giraffe

Today, I see, your glance is especially sad
And your arms, embracing your knees, especially thin.
Listen: far, far away on the Lake of Chad
Wanders a gentle giraffe.

He is endowed with slender grace and bliss,
And his hide adorned with a magical design
Which the moonlight alone, shattering and rocking
On the wide wet of the lake, dares to rival.

From afar he resembles the colored sails of a ship,
And his gait is smooth as the joyful flight of a bird.
I know that the earth will witness many wonders,
When, at sunset, he hides in a marble grotto.

I ...

Read the full of Giraffe

The Right Way

Birth of the word is by agony molded,
Through earthly life it is quietly going,
It is a stranger, which drinks from the golden
Pitcher the drops of the savages’ mourning.

Go to Nature! The Nature is hostile,
All here is frightening, all is in fullness,
There are the trumpets here, singing the docile
Psalms to the Lord, apathetic and useless.

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