Emil Sharafutdinov
Emil Sharafutdinov Poems
From Lermontov
Unwashed Russia, farewell to you,
The land of lords, the land of serfs
...
From Pushkin
Though heavy a burden is in it sometimes,
The cart is light once it gains speed;
...
From Lermontov
A golden cloud passed the night
On the bosom of a giant cliff;
...
(An eastern legend)
From Lermontov
In the waterless plains of Arabian land
...
From Blok
All day - like any day: comprised of little work
And many a trifling care.
...
From Pushkin
Not highly I esteem
The loud rights that make many a head spin.
...
на тему 'Нескончаемой любви' Р. Тагора
Я вас любил во всех обличьях
Из жизни в жизнь, из века в век;
...
What a starry night today, behold!
Until late the Enchanter must have toiled:
Ascended hills, walked in the shade of dales -
He is the deathless lord of mortal days.
...
From Krylov
A flighty Butterfly has sung
Through all summer in the sun;
...
From Krylov
How many times it has been said
That flattery is vile, that flattery is bad,
...
From Krylov
When long ago the Gods were removed from Greece
And among the laity their lands were let on lease,
...
What do we love the most among all things? -
Without doubt it is beauty.
But what it actually means? -
For some, indeed, it's just her body
...
There are the three easiest things,
Though none knows what each means,
They seem to us so commonplace
That we take lightly every phase
...
from Lermontov
Mournfully I look at our generation!
Its future - either blank or dark,
...
from Blok
A desolate quarter rose near
The city on swampy and treacherous land.
...
from Esenin
The golden grove has finished talking
In its birchen, joyful tongue
...
Emil Sharafutdinov Biography
I am a poet, playwright, interpreter, was born in 1988 in the USSR.)
The Best Poem Of Emil Sharafutdinov
Mozart And Salieri By Alexander Pushkin
Scene I
Room.
Salieri
All say: there is no truth on earth.
But there is no truth above. For me
It's clear as a simple scale.
I was born with love for art;
Being a child, when high rang
The organ in our ancient church,
I listened and was absorbed in listening -
Involuntary and sweet tears ran.
Idle amusements I rejected early;
Sciences, alien to music, were
Repellent to me; obstinately and arrogantly
I renounced them and devoted
Myself to music only. Hard is the first step
And boring is the first path. I overcame
The early hardships. The craft
I had set as a footstool to the art;
I became a craftsman: to the fingers
I gave obedient, dry quickness
And accuracy to the ear. Having killed sounds,
Music I dissected, like a corpse. I checked
Harmony with algebra. Then
I already dared, initiated in the science,
To indulge in the delight of a creative dream.
I started to create, but in silence, but in secret,
Not daring yet to think of fame.
Often, having stayed in a silent cell
Two or three days, having forgotten sleep and food,
Having enjoyed raptures and tears of inspiration,
I would burn my work and coldly watch,
How my thought and sounds, brought forth by me,
Blazing, were disappearing in light smoke.
What do I say? When the great Gluck
Appeared and revealed to us new mysteries
(The deep, captivating mysteries) ,
Did I not drop all that I had known before,
All that I had so loved and so ardently believed in,
And did I not go briskly after him
Submissively, like one who lost his way
And was sent by another in a different direction?
With forceful, strenuous constancy
I finally achieved, in the boundless art,
A high degree. Fame
Smiled on me; in the hearts of men
I found response to my creations.
I was happy: I peacefully enjoyed
My work, success, fame; also
The works and achievements of friends,
My comrades in the wonderful art.
No! Never had I known envy,
O, never! - Not when Piccinni
Managed to captivate the ear of savage Parisians,
Nor when I heard for the first time
The opening sounds of Iphigénie1.
Who'd say that proud Salieri has ever been
An despicable envier,
A snake trampled by people, alive,
Powerlessly biting sand and dust?
None! .. But now - I say it myself - I'm now
An envier. I envy; deeply,
Painfully envy. - O heaven!
Where is justice when the sacred gift,
When the immortal genius - not as a reward
For ardent love, selflessness,
Toil, diligence, prayers - was sent -
But illuminates the head of a madman,
An idle reveler? .. O Mozart, Mozart!
Mozart enters.
Mozart
Aha! You've seen me! But I wanted
To treat you to an unexpected joke.
Salieri
You here! - How long?
Mozart
Just now. I was coming to you,
I had something to show you;
But, passing by a tavern, suddenly
I heard a violin… No, my friend Salieri!
You've heard nothing funnier
In all your born days... A blind fiddler in the tavern
Performed voi che sapete2. Miracle!
I couldn't resist, so I brought the fiddler
To treat you to his art.
Come in!
The blind old man enters with a violin.
Something by Mozart for us!
The old man plays an aria from Don Giovanni;
Mozart laughs.
Salieri
And you can laugh?
Mozart
Ah, Salieri!
Aren't you yourself laughing?
Salieri
No!
I do not laugh when a worthless dauber
Dirties Raphael's Madonna,
I do not laugh when a disgusting buffoon
Dishonours Alighieri with a parody.
Go away, old man.
Mozart
Wait: here, this is for you,
Drink to my health.
The old man leaves.
You, Salieri,
Are out of spirits now. I'll come to you
At another time.
Salieri
What have you brought to me?
Mozart
No - nothing; a trifle. The other night
My insomnia was wearying me,
And two, three thoughts came into my head.
Today I put them down. I wanted
To hear your opinion; but now
You aren't in the mood for me.
Salieri
Ah, Mozart, Mozart!
When am I not? Sit down;
I am listening.
Mozart
(at the piano)
Picture to yourself… whom?
Well, take me - a little younger;
In love - not too much, but slightly -
With a beauty, or with a friend - with you, perhaps.
I'm cheerful… Suddenly: a deathly apparition,
Sudden darkness or something like that…
Well, listen.
(Plays.)
Salieri
You were going to me with this
And yet you could stop at the tavern
And listen to the blind fiddler! - God!
You, Mozart, are unworthy of yourself.
Mozart
So, is it good?
Salieri
What a depth!
What daring and what harmony!
You, Mozart, are a god, and do not know it yourself;
I know it, I do.
Mozart
Oh! really? maybe…
But my deity is hungry.
Salieri
Listen: let us dine together
At the tavern of the Golden Lion.
Mozart
Well then;
I'm glad. But let me go home to tell
My wife so that she won't be expecting me
For dinner.
(Leaves.)
Salieri
I'm waiting for you; see to it.
No! I cannot resist my lot,
My fate: I am chosen to stop him,
Or else we all shall perish,
We all, priests, servants of music,
Not I alone with my dull fame…
What profit if Mozart lives
And yet attains a newer height?
Will he raise art by that? No;
It will fall again when he disappears:
He will leave us no heir.
What use is he? Like a cherub,
He brought us several heavenly songs,
Only to, having stirred the wingless longing
In us, children of dust, fly away thereafter!
So fly away, then! The sooner, the better.
Here is the poison, the last gift of my Isora.
For eighteen years I have carried it with me -
And often life has seemed to me since then
An intolerable wound, and I have often sat
With a careless enemy over a meal,
And never to the whisper of temptation
Have I bowed, although I am not a coward,
Although I feel offence deeply,
Although little I love life. Still I've been lingering.
How thirst for death tormented me,
Why die? I deemed: perhaps life
Would bring me sudden gifts;
Perhaps delight, and a creative night,
And inspiration would visit me;
Perhaps a new Haydn would create
Something great - and I would enjoy it…
How I feasted with a hated guest,
Perhaps, I deemed, I'd find
The deadliest enemy; perhaps, the bitterest offence
Would strike me from a haughty height -
Then you shall not be wasted, gift of Isora.
And I was right! and finally I found
My enemy, and a new Haydn
Marvelously intoxicated me with delight!
Now it's time! cherished gift of love,
Pass today into the cup of friendship.
Scene II
A separate room at the tavern; a piano.
Mozart and Salieri at the table.
Salieri
Why are you gloomy today?
Mozart
I? No!
Salieri
You must be, Mozart, upset about something?
The dinner is good, the wine is fine,
But you are keeping silent and frowning.
Mozart
To confess,
My Requiem is troubling me.
Salieri
Ah!
You are composing a Requiem? For how long?
Mozart
A while, about three weeks. But a strange incident…
Did I not tell you?
Salieri
No.
Mozart
Then listen.
Some three weeks ago, I came home late.
I was told that someone had came
For me. Why - I do not know,
All night I was thinking: who could it have been?
And what did he want with me? The next day he again
Came and didn't catch me in.
On the third day I was playing on the floor
With my boy. They called me;
I came out. A man, dressed in black,
Having bowed politely, commissioned
A Requiem from me and disappeared. I sat down at once
And began to write - and since then
My black man hasn't come for me;
But I am glad: I would be sorry to part
With my work, though quite ready
Is the Requiem. But meanwhile I…
Salieri
What?
Mozart
I am ashamed to confess it…
Salieri
What is it?
Mozart
My black man gives me no rest
By day or night. Everywhere he chases me
Like a shadow. Here now
It seems to me, he himself, the third
Is sitting with us.
Salieri
Come, come! what childish fear is this?
Dispel the empty thought. Beaumarchais
Used to say to me: "Listen, brother Salieri,
When black thoughts come to you,
Uncork a bottle of champagne
Or reread The marriage of Figaro."
Mozart
Yes! Beaumarchais was indeed your pal;
You composed Tarare3 for him,
A nice piece. There is one tune…
I'm always humming it when I am happy…
La la la la… Ah, is it true, Salieri,
That Beaumarchais poisoned somebody?
Salieri
I don't think so: he was too humorous
For such a trade.
Mozart
He was, after all, a genius,
Like you and me. And genius and villainy -
Two things incompatible. Aren't they?
Salieri
You think?
(Drops the poison into Mozart's glass.)
Now, drink.
Mozart
To your health
Friend, and to the candid union
That binds Mozart and Salieri,
Two sons of harmony.
(Drinks.)
Salieri
Wait,
Wait, wait! .. You've drunk! .. Without me?
Mozart
(throws the napkin on the table)
Enough, I'm full.
(Goes to the piano.)
Listen, Salieri,
My Requiem.
(Plays.)
You're crying?
Salieri
These tears
For the first time I shed: both painful and pleasant,
As though I had fulfilled a heavy duty,
As though a healing knife had cut from me
A suffering limb! Friend Mozart, these tears…
Ignore them. Continue, hasten
Yet more to fill my soul with sounds…
Mozart
If only all so felt the power
Of harmony! But no: then the world
Could not exist; nobody would
Care for the needs of base life;
All would give themselves to free art.
There are few of us, the chosen, fortunate idle ones,
Neglecting contemptible profit,
Priests of the beautiful alone.
Is it not true? But I am unwell today,
I'm feeling somewhat heavy; I'll go to sleep
Goodbye!
Salieri
Good bye.
(Alone.)
You shall sleep
Long, Mozart! But can he really be right,
And I no genius? Genius and villainy
Are two things incompatible. Not true:
But Buonarroti? or is it a fairy tale
Of the stupid, senseless mob - and was not
The creator of Vatican4 a murderer?
1830
1 "Iphigénie en Tauride", an opera by Gluck.
2 "Voi che sapete" ("O you who know", Ital.) - the aria of Cherubino from the 3rd act of Mozart's opera "The Marriage of Figaro".
3 An opera by Salieri to a libretto by Beaumarchais.
4 A legend exists that Michelangelo killed the model in order to depict the dying Christ more naturally.
Emil Sharafutdinov Comments
Emil Sharafutdinov Quotes
The only way to be a modern author is to write about the eternal.
Talentless artists sometimes leave very tough stains.
If the truth pricks your eyes, rejoice - it means you have not yet lost the ability to see it.
Translating from a foreign language into Russian is like pouring water from a test tube into a basin; translating from Russian into a foreign language is like pouring water from a basin into a test tube.
True art is perfect; a craftsman will always have a limitation in technique.
Artists say that if you mix all colours, you get black; one may suppose that if you mix all human desires, you get a desire not to be.
If every person were themselves, there would not be a single role model left on earth.
A lie is bad; a half-told truth is worse than a lie; an unspoken truth is the worst of evils.
A person's character is the sum of their hatreds.
Only two things awaken the most beautiful feelings in the human soul - absolute beauty and absolute helplessness.
In any art it is always easy to distinguish lack of talent from talent, for to create, for the talentless, means to express oneself.
The most dangerous society is a society of peaceful, law-abiding citizens: you never know what lawless atrocity may be legalised in such a society.
What influence do women in power have on the world? - None, if they behave like men.
In our age there is so much freedom that it is losing all value. Civilised people treat freedom the way Peruvian indigenous people treated gold before the arrival of the colonisers: some let children play with it, others place it in pantheons.
To write poetry one must know oneself; to write prose one must know people.
- Plato is my friend, but dearer still is truth. - No truth can be valued above a human being.
If an idea is capable of driving friends apart, it is a bad idea; if friends are capable of falling out over an idea, they are bad friends.
In the modern world only one great dictator remains - the "little man", the most cruel tyrant of all who have ever plagued talented people.
The meaning of life is not to live well or long, but to live forever.
It is better to be a traitor to one country than a traitor to the whole of humankind.
The religiosity and patriotism of a reasonable person should not go beyond a sincere belief in the practical usefulness of religious and civic holidays.
Only a person deprived of imagination is not afraid of the dark.
Whoever remains a child becomes a personality; whoever grows up becomes a mass.
The most unnatural and the most widespread artistic fiction is evil endowed with positive qualities (beauty, intelligence, taste, courage, talent, originality) . In reality, the only characteristic feature of evil is dull military uniformity that produces deadly boredom.
The villain in film is Mowgli from The Jungle Book; the villain in real life is a mowgli from a psychiatric ward.
In our literature, a strange notion of the genre of the fable has taken shape: our fabulists seem to believe in all seriousness that, by calling in their simple-minded works people who have displeased them in some way or whose way of life they condemn asses, chickens, pigs, and so on, they are not merely abusing them, but expressing themselves in Aesopian language.
Suicide is the death of the utmost…
If the body does not make itself felt, it means that a person is leading a spiritual life.
If one of the creators begins to declare philosophically that, just as a tree is indifferent to whether monkeys like the taste of its fruits, so he has no concern for whether the public likes his creations, then to compare him to a tree would be far too flattering, for a tree has taken millions of years of evolution to make its fruits beautiful, tasty, and wholesome. But if this creator is truly eager to demonstrate his indifference to us, it would be more accurate to compare him to a log.
As philosopher N rightly observed, at all times the wisest people have judged life in the same way: they said that it is no good at all. And in exactly the same way, life in return rewards the works of geniuses with the detraction of fools.
A godless person is not someone who does not believe in God or thinks that God doesn't exist; it is a person whom the beauty and genius of nature, of people, and of their creations leave indifferent.
If everyone in a country is blind, does that mean that the one who can see is king? - No, it means that the one who can see is in the dark.
Lie is the stench exuded by a dead politician.
A leader is one who leads without being on a leash.
Invest in self-respect; it is the only currency whose rate will rise.
It is quite possible that the American state is a social contract serving the personal benefit of every person participating in it, but Russia and countries like it are not social contracts; they are dysfunctional large families, whose children can take comfort only in the fact that one does not choose one's parents.
A feeling that could be called the antonym of the word "envy" is so rare that people have not even invented a name for it!
The philosopher Alan Watts noted that for a person to give themselves a definition is just as difficult as to bite their own teeth. This phenomenon proves that within each of us there is an individuality so unique that it cannot be expressed by common words.
The most valuable thing in a home is empty floor space; in life, free time.
The instinct of self-preservation is the instinct of self-respect.
The exchange of information is the most ecstatic pleasure of humanity - isn't it?
If you hear someone ranking people, beware: that's a cannibal talking.
Consumer - that sounds proud.
Our Hogwarts generation is the first generation of grumpy thirty-year-olds lamenting their glorious past.
Films are paintings: the wall belongs to them. Series are wallpaper: they belong to the wall.
Chat GPT is only as smart as the person talking to it.
If I can't watch your movie with a ten-year-old kid, it's a waste of my time.
Human hatred is a purely aesthetic feeling; if it weren't, we wouldn't admire fictitious villains.
Daydreams are a film about your life in which you are played by someone else.
Any act of will is a work of art.
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