Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

(1886 - 1921 / Russia)

Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev Poems

1. Agamemnon's Warrior 1/1/2004
2. Annam 4/13/2010
3. Children Song 4/13/2010
4. Don Juan 1/1/2004
5. Dreams 1/1/2004
6. Eternal 1/1/2004
7. Forest 4/13/2010
8. Giraffe 4/13/2010
9. Happiness 4/13/2010
10. Home 4/13/2010
11. It Was Not Once 4/13/2010
12. It Was Not Once 1/1/2004
13. Kha 4/13/2010
14. Laos 4/13/2010
15. Like Undistinguishable Horses 4/13/2010
16. Like Undistinguishable Horses 1/1/2004
17. Moon Over The Sea 4/13/2010
18. My Thoughts 4/13/2010
19. My Thoughts 1/1/2004
20. Nature 4/13/2010
21. Oh, How Silent Is The Nature 4/13/2010
22. Oh, How Silent Is The Nature 1/1/2004
23. Only Serpents 1/1/2004
24. Only Serpents 4/13/2010
25. Poet 4/13/2010
26. Porcelain Pavilion 4/13/2010
27. Reader Of Books 4/13/2010
28. Shame 1/1/2004
29. She 1/1/2004
30. Sonnet 1/1/2004
31. The Clever Demon 1/1/2004
32. The Conquistador 1/1/2004
33. The Descendents Of Cain 1/1/2004
34. The Gates Of Paradise 1/1/2004
35. The Lost Tram 4/13/2010
36. The Other One 1/1/2004
37. The Prophets 1/1/2004
38. The Right Way 1/1/2004
39. The Road 4/13/2010
40. The Sixth Sense 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

Eternal

I’m in the days’ embracing limits,
Where even skies are ever gray,
Look through the ages, live in minutes,
And wait for Holy Saturday;

The end of soul’s aimless travels,
Of lucks and troubles peaceful end.
O, come, my day when I’ll be able
To Know, See and Understand.

My soul will be so new and broad,
All, that’s alluring, will be mine.
And I will bless the golden road,
From blind worm and to golden sun.

And he, who went with me wherever,
Trough thunders and the silent peace,
He, who was kind to me in fever,
And cruel when I ...

Read the full of Eternal

The Sixth Sense

Fine is the wine that is in love with us,
The goodly bread we wait for from the oven,
And woman whom we have possessed, at last,
After we've suffered under yoke her own.

But what to do if a red sunset freezes
Above a sky that's drowning in cold,
Where there is silence and unearthly peace,
What can one do with the immortal ode?

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