Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Rookie (18 July 1933 / Zima Junction, Siberia)

Yevgeny Yevtushenko Poems

1. We Should Be Stingier 8/18/2007
2. In Jest 8/18/2007
3. My Universities 8/18/2007
4. Pitching And Reeling 8/18/2007
5. Pasternak's Grave 8/18/2007
6. Irpen 8/18/2007
7. The Mrk Of Cain 8/18/2007
8. The Execution Of Stenka Razin 8/17/2007
9. In The Wax Museum At Hamburg 8/18/2007
10. Prologue 8/18/2007
11. Monologue Of A Polar Fox On An Alaskan Fur Farm 8/18/2007
12. Poetry Gives Off Smoke 8/18/2007
13. My Handwriting 8/18/2007
14. Weddings 8/18/2007
15. The Inexpressible 8/18/2007
16. Monologue Of An American Poet 8/18/2007
17. Assignation 8/17/2007
18. Verlaine 8/18/2007
19. No, I'Ll No Take Half 8/18/2007
20. Vietnam Classic 8/18/2007
21. Once People 8/18/2007
22. Let's Not... 8/18/2007
23. Again, A Meeting 8/15/2007
24. On The Question Of Freedom 8/18/2007
25. Tomorrow's Wind 8/18/2007
26. Eight Year Old Poet 8/17/2007
27. Murder 8/18/2007
28. Antedeluvian 8/17/2007
29. Momma 8/18/2007
30. Picture Of Childhood 8/18/2007
31. Disbelief In Yourself Is Indispensable 8/17/2007
32. Monologue Of A Broadway Actress 8/18/2007
33. Idol 8/17/2007
34. Black Bandillera 8/17/2007
35. I Dreamed I Already 8/17/2007
36. Wounds 8/18/2007
37. The Depth 8/17/2007
38. Girl Beatnik 8/17/2007
39. Hall In Kharkov 8/17/2007
40. The Mail Cutter 8/18/2007

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Best Poem of Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Humor

Tsars, Kings, Emperors,
sovereigns of all the earth,
have commanded many a parade,
but they could not command humor.
When Aesop, the tramp, came visiting
the palaces of eminent personages
ensconced in sleek comfort all day,
they struck him as paupers.
In houses, where hypocrites have
left the smear of their puny feet,
there Hodja-Nasr-ed-Din, with his jests,
swept clean all meanness
like a board of chessmen!
They tried to commission humor-
but humor is not to be bought!
They tried to murder humor,
but humor thumbed his nose at them! ...

Read the full of Humor

Alder Catkin

Whenever the wind
drops an alder catkin into my palm,
or a cuckoo calls merrily,
with trains screaming by,
I fall to reflecting,
and struggle to grasp life’s meaning,
and, as usual, arrive
at the place where it slips from my grasp.
Reducing oneself

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