Saint Petersburg - the city of the Dead, Where dreaming spirits haunt the mist-cloaked streets. A diadem of rubies crowns your head, And silver armour lines your mighty fleet. Let myriads of angels guard your spires Against the pain and suffering of war: Rejoice, the bygone northernmost empire, Built on deception, cruelty, and gore! The Winter Palace flaunts its azure gown - A ballerina on the frozen lake, Whose beauty flares, as if about to drown Beneath the burden of her last mistake. May a luxuriant, wild garden grow Where once was land of misery and snow.
We are spending more time apart than together Playing silent games… Are we lovers or ghosts, lighter than feathers, Leaving nebulous stains? Let my longing be nectar to your amorous venom, Which leads me astray - Our memories echo a murderous raven Looking for prey. Tenderness has become a torturous weapon In your loving hands, And I swallow my words like the earth swallows Heaven Each time it rains…
If you were a rose, You would hide in the dark Until I discovered your delicate spark. If you were a rose, Every flower would fade, Entranced by the perfume which you radiate. If you were a rose, Your soft, velvety skin Would cover my eyes with the raptures unseen. If you were a rose, I would kiss your wild thorns, Crimson with blood, as it lingers and burns. If you were a rose, You would bloom all year long, Drinking my tears when I cry, all alone. If you were a rose, You would grow in my heart, Entwining it gently, as you tear me apart. My garden has blossomed With sorrow and loss. Why didn't you tell me that you were a rose?
To all of you, entranced by subtle verse, Here lies a gift concealed between the lines - As though a scintillating pearl, enclosed Naively by the effervescent rhymes. Kindling above the fervent windswept waves, Your gentle words transcend the leaden clouds! Ornate, like scarlet flames, the heartfelt praise, Unvanquished, burns away my puerile doubts. So I remain a prisoner, alone Ordained to dwell in the Siberian steppe - May there be solace - when the warmth is gone, Upon your eyes, rains softly my regret. Creating threads of poetry at night, How blessed I am to have your vibrant light!
This poem is dedicated to the film “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.” The exquisite digital painting for the sonnet was created by my dearest friend, a talented young artist Vasilisa Semiletova. You can behold her masterpieces here: https://vk.com/elopeople, and don’t hesitate to follow her Instagram!
I paint my dear love in subtle tones Upon the canvas, luminous and warm. Before my eyes - stripped to the bare bones - Her soul ignites, as though about to burn… "If you observe me, who do I look at?" - Her question sets my quietude aflame. "Remember us, beloved, don't regret: Your portrait glows within a golden frame!" The years pass: my heart still skips a beat Whenever it recalls the day she smiled; I turned around, confessing my defeat, Forever from the lover's arms exiled. Alas, her longing gaze did not meet mine, Enraptured, when I saw her one last time.
Это стихотворение посвящено фильму “Портрет Девушки в Огне”. Изысканную цифровую иллюстрацию для сонета создала моя дорогая подруга, талантливая юная художница Василиса Семилетова. Вы можете увидеть её шедевры здесь: https://vk.com/elopeople, и не стесняйтесь следить за её Instagram!
Любимую пишу я краской нежной На тёплом и сияющем холсте. Передо мной - до кости белоснежной Обнажена душа в живом огне… "Вы видите меня - кого я вижу?" - Воспламеняет тишину вопрос. "Воспоминанья сожалений выше: Портрет в уборе золотом готов!" Проходят годы - сердце замирает, Её улыбку вспомнив невзначай; Я обернулась, словно признавая, Что навсегда мы говорим "Прощай!" Увы, не встретив взгляд желанных глаз, Я видела её в последний раз.
It's Sunset. All the sea is covered by a lunar mist, Although the distant land seems near. The clouds thicken, as the salty dunes embrace and twist - Caressingly, away they steer. Let the audacious wind disturb the airy sail: We have no fear of storms and saints, Between the hidden rocks manoeuvring without fail, Forgetting our old complaints. The thunder rumbles ruthlessly and sways the sturdy deck - A portent of misfortune grim. The lightning's arrow left an incandescent track: Don't take this darkness for a dream! Encompassed by the icebound gloom and shreds of silver foam, Which soars to the stars, like smoke, We enter murky caves - where myriads of luring sirens roam: Beware of their mellifluous talk! Alas, the only beacon of a fragile hope had sunk, These waters will be our demise! The wild forget-me-nots entwine my burning lungs: "In time, life sheds its thin disguise." The Night. With their amber eyes, the fervent harpies gaze, Awaiting the horrendous end. Hold on! Amidst the chaos, we'll mount the towering waves: Embracing firmly, hand in hand. Above the broken mast, a thunderbird is cawing briskly: "Take off! It's time to spread your wings!" Our life has flashed before our eyes, the moments - meagre, beastly - How evanescently they gleam! Look, now the brutal current swirls, deluging our vessel: The helm is captured by the tide! Don't cry, my dear, you're not alone, for we are still together - Love will eclipse the ninth wave's height. Although the rampant ocean unfurled its grim abyss, We won't disperse without a trace: The wreckage of our troubled souls the water shall release Into the long-forgotten bays. Transfigured by the tempest's rage, we swim to terra firma, Untarnished by the years forlorn. As though the sleeping wanderers, awakened by a murmur, Our eyes behold the sun. It's Dawn!
Dear readers, I hope you will enjoy this multimedia presentation of my literary work! The video features a recording of my poem, accompanied by picturesque views of Canadian nature and urban life, which I captured throughout my studies in this beautiful country.