Biography of Velimir Khlebnikov
Originally named Viktor Vladimirovich Khlebnikov, born on Oct. 28, 1885, in the Kalmyk Autonomous Republic in Russia. Khlebnikov grew up to be well-educated in the disciplines of science, nature, folklore, mythology, mathematics, literature, art, history, and languages.
A poet who became known as the founder of Russian Futurism and whose esoteric verses exerted a significant influence on Soviet poetry after his death. Khlebnikov is becoming recognized as one of the major Russian poets of the twentieth century, having for years been dismissed as a purveyor of unintelligible verbal trickery.
Velimir Khlebnikov died June 28, 1922.
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Velimir Khlebnikov Poems
When Horses Die
When horses die, they breathe When grasses die, they wither, When suns die, they go out,
Invocation Of Laughter
O, laugh, laughers! O, laugh out, laughers! You who laugh with laughs, you who laugh it up laughishly O, laugh out laugheringly
Bo-Beh-O-Bi Sang The Lips
Bo-beh-o-bi, sang the lips, Veh-eh-o-mi, sang the glances, Pi-eh-eh-o, sang the brows, Li-eh-eh-ey, sang the visage,
Wind Is Song
Wind is song Of whom and of what? Of the sword's longing To be the word.
Today I Will Go Once Again
Today I will go once again Into life, into haggling, into market,
On This Day Of Sky-Blue Bears
On this day of sky-blue bears Running across quiet eyelashes, I divine beyond the blue waters In the cup of my eyes an order to wake.
Midnight estate, Genghis Khanerate! Rustle, blue birches. Bright sunset, Zarathustrate! And you, blue sky, Mozartate!
Wingletting with the golden scrawl Of its finest sinews, The grasshopper loaded its trailer-belly With many coastal herbs and faiths.
Where The Waxwings Used To Dwell
Where the waxwings used to dwell, Where the pine trees softly swayed, A flock of airy momentwills Flew around and flew away.
Rus' You Are But A Kiss In The Frost
Rus', you are but a kiss in the frost! The midnight roads are blueing. Lips joined in a blue lightning bolt, Clasped, he and she are blueing.
Wind Is Song
Wind is song
Of whom and of what?
Of the sword's longing
To be the word.
People cherish the day of death
Like a favorite daisy.
Believe that the strings of the great
Are strummed by the East these days.
Perhaps we'll be given new pride