Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
My Monastery, Where - Poem by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
My monastery, where I'm badly pining,
Is granite, melted by the burning mind.
I'm strangled and blinded under this heat, lying,
And leave it, trying a new cell to find…
There'll be still heat, but one that's always warming.
The bloody ball will melt my brain to ash,
I'll lose my mind in ways, the more calming,
Than in this one, oppressing blood and flesh.
Where's the new cell? Where is my cloister, novel?
Not on the skies, the grave's darkness behind,
But on the Earth it's healthy one and low,
Where I'll find all, when having lost my mind!...
Comments about My Monastery, Where by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You