Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

(1886 - 1921 / Russia)

Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev Poems

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

Comments about Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

  • Gennady (2/18/2019 3:51:00 PM)

    Film Gumilev https: //youtu.be/KvUpLWvBveM

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  • Rajesh (2/8/2019 10:46:00 AM)

    This poem summry

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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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