modern woman,
Modern woman -
Wrapped up in vanity,
But as before, divine!
Let a little tired
But, as before, beautiful!
Not fully understood
No one's control!
modern woman,
Modern woman -
It's sad and thoughtful
It is bright and solemn.
Prove her weaknesses
Defeat her in audacity
In vain men try
Really hoping!
Do not brag about strength
But on it - nevertheless -
And office worries
And family concerns!
Knowing everything in the world,
All hardships past -
Remains a mystery
Modern woman!
Robert Rozhdestvensky
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Two clouds don't make the weather
And two tears don't make it rain.
An arrogant look is not yet a sign of the breed,
And a hat is often a hat on a nail.
Aspiration does not mean goal,
And two rubles is not yet capital.
Two shots don't make a duel
Two prowess - still not ideal.
Two glasses are not fatal for a reveler,
Two clowns - not yet a farce,
Two lunges don't mean a fight
Two kisses - not even a romance.
How often do we worry in vain
And we see a storm where the sky is clear.
Anna Akhmatova
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Love is a lighthouse raised above the storm (W. Shakespeare)
Love is a beacon raised above the storm,
Shining in darkness and mist,
Love is the star that sailor
Defines a place in the ocean.
Love is not a pitiful doll in your hands,
By the time that erases the roses
On fiery lips and cheeks,
And she is not afraid of time threats.
And if I'm wrong, and my verse lies -
There is no love and there are no my poems!
Send to a friend
I learned to live simply, wisely,
Look up to the sky and pray to God
And wander long before evening,
To relieve unnecessary anxiety.
When burdocks rustle in the ravine
And a bunch of yellow-red rowan droops,
I compose funny poems
About life perishable, perishable and beautiful.
I'm coming back. Licks my hand
Fluffy cat, purring sweeter,
And a bright fire lights up
On the tower of the lake sawmill.
Only occasionally cuts through the silence
The cry of a stork flying onto the roof.
And if you knock on my door,
I don't think I can even hear.
Anna Akhmatova
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rebirth
Artist-barbarian with a sleepy brush
Blackens the picture of a genius
And your drawing is lawless
It is meaningless drawing over it.
But the colors are alien, with the years,
Fall off with decrepit scales;
The creation of genius before us
Comes out with the same beauty.
This is how delusions disappear.
From my tortured soul
And visions arise in her
The original, pure days.
1819
Pushkin
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While we are alive, we can fix everything ...
Realize everything, repent ... Forgive.
Do not take revenge on enemies, do not dissemble loved ones,
Friends that pushed away, return ...
While we are alive, you can look back ...
See the path you came from.
Waking up from terrible dreams, push off
From the abyss to which they approached.
While we are alive ... How many have managed
Stop loved ones that are gone?
We did not have time to forgive them in life,
And to ask for forgiveness, - Could not.
When they leave in silence
There, from where there is definitely no return,
Sometimes it takes a few minutes
Understand - oh my God, how guilty we are ...
And the photo is a black and white movie.
Tired eyes - a familiar look.
They already forgave us a long time ago
For the fact that they were too rarely around,
For no calls, no meetings, no warmth.
Not faces in front of us, just shadows...
And how much was not said
And not about that, and not with those phrases.
Tight pain - guilt final touch -
Scraping, cold skin.
For everything we didn't do for them
They forgive. We cannot ourselves...
Eduard Asadov
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I drink you, captivating life,
Eyes, heart, breaths and skin.
It would seem that everything is one and the same,
Like a perfectly precise mechanism.
But how wrong we are - oh my God!
In fact, everything is different.
And every day is filled with newness.
Diamonds burn differently in the night
Bottomless stars - in winter and spring.
How do we experience summer?
And insatiable autumn infusion.
We know all the questions and answers
And yet we shout to the time: "Wait!"
Marina Tsvetaeva
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We lose half of our lives because of haste.
Hurrying, sometimes we do not notice
Not a puddle on a russula hat,
No pain in the depths of your beloved eyes ...
And only, as they say, at sunset,
Amid the hustle and bustle, in captivity of success, suddenly,
You will be mercilessly grabbed by the throat
Cold hands fright:
Lived on the run, chasing a ghost
In networks of worries and urgent matters ...
Or maybe the main thing - and missed ...
Or maybe the main thing - and overlooked ...
Julia Drunina
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They must be subtracted from the calendar,
and life gets shorter.
I was busy with stupid vanity,
the day slipped - I did not see a friend
and did not shake his hand alive ...
Well! This day I must throw off the circle.
And if I didn’t remember my mother in a day,
I didn’t call my sister or brother at least once,
then there is nothing to say in justification:
that day is gone! Priceless waste!
I'm lazy or tired -
did not see a funny performance,
did not read magic verses
and somehow cheated himself, right?
And if I didn't help someone,
did not compose a frame or a line,
then robbed today's result
and made life a day shorter.
Fold - so scary how much I squandered
at gatherings where it's neither warm nor hot...
But he didn’t say the main words to his beloved
and didn't buy flowers or a gift.
How many days that are wasted
days that died somehow by the way.
They must be taken off the calendar.
and measure your life even shorter.
Eldar Ryazanov (author's spelling and punctuation preserved)
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Winter morning
Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, my lovely friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up;
Open eyes closed by bliss
Towards the northern Aurora,
Be the star of the north!
Evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
In the cloudy sky, a haze hovered;
The moon is like a pale spot
Turned yellow through the gloomy clouds,
And you sat sad -
And now ... look out the window:
Under blue skies
splendid carpets,
Shining in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river under the ice glitters.
The whole room amber gleam
Enlightened. Cheerful crackling
The fired oven crackles.
It's nice to think by the couch.
But you know: do not order to the sled
Ban the brown filly?
Gliding through the morning snow
Dear friend, let's run
impatient horse
And visit the empty fields
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.
1829
Pushkin
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Prayer
Desert fathers and blameless wives,
To fly with your heart in the region of correspondence,
To strengthen it in the midst of valley storms and battles,
Laid down many divine prayers;
But none of them make me happy
Like the one that the priest repeats
In the sad days of Great Lent;
More and more often she comes to my lips
And strengthens the fallen with an unknown force:
Lord of my days!
The spirit of idleness is dull,
Love of command, this hidden serpent,
And do not give idle talk to my soul.
But let me see my, O God, sins.
Yes, my brother will not accept condemnation from me,
And the spirit of humility, patience, love
And revive chastity in my heart.
1836
Pushkin
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Song about Prophetic Oleg
How the prophetic Oleg is now going
Take revenge on the unreasonable Khazars:
Their villages and fields for a violent raid
He doomed swords and fires;
With his retinue, in Constantinople armor,
The prince rides across the field on a faithful horse.
From the dark forest towards him
There is an inspired magician,
Submissive to Perun, the old man alone,
The promises of the future messenger,
In prayers and divination spent the whole century.
And Oleg drove up to the wise old man.
"Tell me, sorcerer, favorite of the gods,
What will happen in my life?
And soon, to the delight of neighbors-enemies,
Will I cover myself with grave earth?
Tell me the whole truth, don't be afraid of me:
You will take a horse as a reward for anyone.
"Magi are not afraid of mighty lords,
And they do not need a princely gift;
Truthful and free is their prophetic language
And friendly with the will of heaven.
The coming years lurk in the mist;
But I see your lot on a bright forehead.
Now remember my word:
Glory to the Warrior is a joy;
Your name is glorified by victory:
Your shield on the gates of Tsaregrad:
And the waves and the land are submissive to you;
The enemy is jealous of such a wondrous fate.
And the blue sea is a deceptive shaft
In the hours of fatal bad weather,
And a sling, and an arrow, and a crafty dagger
Spare the winner years ...
Under formidable armor you know no wounds;
An invisible guardian is given to the mighty.
Your horse is not afraid of dangerous labors;
He, sensing the master's will,
That meek stands under the arrows of enemies,
It rushes across the battlefield,
And the cold and cutting him nothing.
But you will accept death from your horse.
Oleg chuckled - but the forehead
And the eyes were clouded with thought.
In silence, hand leaning on the saddle,
He gets down from his horse sullen;
And a true friend with a farewell hand
And strokes and pats on the neck steep.
"Farewell, my comrade, my faithful servant,
It's time for us to part:
Now rest! no more footsteps
In your gilded stirrup.
Farewell, be comforted - but remember me.
You lads-friends, take a horse!
Cover with a blanket, shaggy carpet;
Take me to my meadow by the bridle;
Bathe, feed with selected grain;
Drink spring water."
And the youths immediately departed with the horse,
And the prince brought another horse.
The prophetic Oleg feasts with the retinue
At the ringing of a cheerful glass.
And their curls are white as morning snow
Above the glorious head of the barrow...
They remember days gone by
And the battles where they fought together...
“Where is my comrade?” Oleg said,
Tell me, where is my zealous horse?
Are you healthy? is it still lego? to his run?
Is he still the same stormy, playful?
And listens to the answer: on a steep hill
He had long since passed into a sleepless sleep.
Mighty Oleg bowed his head
And he thinks: “What is fortune-telling?
Magician, you deceitful, mad old man!
I would despise your prediction!
My horse would carry me to this day."
And he wants to see the bones of the horse.
Here comes the mighty Oleg from the yard,
Igor and old guests are with him,
And they see: on a hill, near the banks of the Dnieper,
Noble bones lie;
The rains wash them, their dust falls asleep,
And the wind excites the feather grass above them.
The prince quietly stepped on the horse's skull
And he said: “Sleep, lonely friend!
Your old master has outlived you:
At the funeral feast, already close,
It's not you who will stain the feather grass under the ax
And drink my ashes with hot blood!
So that's where my death lurked!
The bone threatened me with death!”
From the dead head the coffin serpent
Meanwhile, hersing crawled out;
Like a black ribbon wrapped around the legs:
And suddenly the stung prince cried out.
Ladles are circular, foaming, hissing
At the feast of the deplorable Oleg:
Prince Igor and Olga are sitting on a hill;
The squad is feasting at the shore;
Fighters commemorate past days
And the battles where they fought together.
1822
Pushkin
You write in such a way that you want to cry,
Then laugh, joyfully dream.
Easy and simple - the style is unique,
Thank you for your talent!
And happy birthday to you
We wish you happiness, sincerely loving,
Good health and joy of the soul,
So that the years are wonderfully good!
For your soul to fly in the sky
And we saw inspiration in the eyes,
To lay lines on a sheet,
God bless your work!
Your heroes are a string
Today I stood up in a row,
They left the pages
Everyone wants to congratulate you.
Meeting your birthday
You let inspiration into the house,
Plots, episodes flock
Fill in the blank sheets.
Let yours, the writer, not dry out
Source of thoughts and ideas
Let the descendants write: "Classic",
next to your last name.
Talented writer, kind and good man congratulations on your birthday today. I wish creative inspiration, unusual plots, brave ideas, excellent health, a large number of admirers, true success and personal happiness in life.
Write, write! And we honor
How we congratulate you all today,
We wish you the development of creative plans,
Big fees and spontaneous bonuses,
In a family of understanding, affection with love,
After all creative personality difficult at times.
Let the critics silently graze in the south
We know you are the best writer around!
I wish you a lot of inspiration
The plots are bright, interesting,
boundless patience,
Truly wonderful ideas!
Let health not fail
And all dreams come true!
Let success find you
So that you taste the glory!
The writer is a creative person.
I wish you well.
Health and luck in life
Let them never let you down.
I wish you joy and happiness.
Let success await in your career.
You know how to write beautifully.
I wish you to live without troubles.
We are all happy to congratulate you
We want to say from the bottom of our hearts
Without any exaggeration:
"All your books are good!"
We wish you happiness and health
You for many years
To great inspiration
Never left!
Happy Birthday,
Master of stitch and pen,
I wish you inspiration
From night to morning.
May the great masterpieces
Bring you recognition
Let it always inspire
Your glorious calling.
May talent be appreciated
Let life be bright
Never touch you
Let despondency and sadness.
I wish you to draw inspiration with a spoon,
In writing, deserve recognition,
May every day be better than the last
So that with all my heart I would like to live more strongly!
I wish you romance, pleasant meetings
And happiness is an endless flight,
And let the flow of fans is immense
He will find all the importance in your work!
You can safely invent fate
For all the heroes of his work,
But I just forgot in a continuous run,
That today is a holiday, your birthday.
So let it burn in the sky today
Your star, illuminating the road,
And everything that the heart cherishes,
Warms you all your life with love!
I wish you skill and inspiration,
Calmness and patience
Dignity and nobility
May luck smile upon you!
Have prosperity and success
Work, so that there is no interference,
To not leave Pegasus,
The spark of talent has not died out!
Unfortunately, I do not know how to speak in poetic words and always look with great admiration at people who are given the opportunity to create beautiful works that give people joy, improve their mood and make the world kinder!
Let me congratulate you today with all my heart!
I wish that the gift that nature has endowed you with will bring you and those around you more and more new, wonderful poems! May there always be a muse next to you, which will make your poems more beautiful!
I wish you never to know disappointments and sorrows, well, if only a little - to create poetry!
Be always healthy, happy and loved!
Congratulations on the birthday of the poet
Forgive in advance about the feeling of indulgence,
When you read the gift verse.
And yet, congratulations:
Happy birthday to you, dear poet.
I wish you, of course, inspiration,
Catch the moment of insight
Write to the rhythm of the heartbeat
All admiring for many more years.
Congratulations to the poet in verse
For a poet, congratulations are not easy to come up with,
Think big and deep!
Pick a rhyme
It didn't sound like words were wasted!
Let there be only summer in my soul,
Respected that the friends of the poet!
And it's easy for you to create a lot,
So that the verses are read well!
Maybe you'll write a poem
Let's read it right away!
Or compose an ode to happiness,
Then you will enchant us in an instant!
We wish earthly joys,
And only big victories in everything!
Let you everyday bad weather
Always bypassed.
As always, take good care of
Beautiful features in the soul.
Fire of warmth.
ZAHIR FARYABI
(1156-1201)
O friend, do not be friends with peace in love,
Punish your covenant to the ignorant.
Sting your rose friend with a thorn yourself,
always hold her in your arms.
Moment by moment earthly life will flash by.
May every day blossom with joy.
In this world, your kingdom is the foundation.
The way you live, and your life will pass.
Schiller: "The rings hold marriage together, They also give chains."
So let's raise our glasses to the chain
our young family always consisted of only two
permanent links!
BOBO TAHIR
(died 1055-1056)
My longing languor - from my beloved,
And grief, and healing - from the beloved.
Let the skin of the world rip off me - soul
I will not be away from my beloved.
You are a woman, you are a book between books,
You are a rolled up, sealed scroll;
In his lines there are an abundance of thoughts and words,
In his sheets every moment is insane.
You are a woman, you are a witch's drink:
It burns with fire as soon as it penetrates the mouth;
But the flame drinker stifles the cry
And glorify furiously in the midst of torture.
You are a woman and you are right.
From the century removed the crown of the stars,
Are you the image of a deity in our abyss?
We draw an iron yoke for you,
We serve you, crushing the mountains,
And we pray - from the century - for you!
A Ya. Bryusov
OMARHAYAM
(c. 1048 - after 1122)
All that is is only fiction, it flies in a dream,
And the unelected is the one who knows about that.
Sit down, drink this cup and be merry."
Don't let regret torment you later.
Do not be careless at the crossroads of days
And know: fate is worse than a robber.
Fate treats you with halva, -
Do not eat - deadly poison in her halva!
ABDU/QADIR BEDIL
(1644-1720 or 1721)
Let long labors in accomplishments not be quick,
Apply diligence - efforts will be disputes.
When the plowmen unite in labor.
Then, having taken everything together, they would have demolished the mountains.
O slave of dreams, know: good is not what
you dream.
You. all of fiction is in captivity. Where is the truth
You don't know.
You hope to lead your life in the afterlife,
Paradise, if it exists, it is not what it is
you suppose.
OMARHAYAM
(c. 1048 - after 1122)
The soul that endured suffering, freedom is gained.
Let the drop languish in the dungeon, it becomes a pearl.
Do not cry, if you are ruined, wealth will return,
Let the cup be emptied, it will be full again.
AFZA KASHANI
(died 1307)
Where can a soul find a friend these days?
And in whom the stronghold of good has not collapsed?
He who does not know sorrow in our burden,
Not a man or does not live at all.
BOBO TAHIR
(died 1055-1056)
I'll look at the golden steppe - it's you,
I'll look at the sea wave - it's you.
I will look at the valleys, at the high mountains,
Everywhere I see one sign - it's you.
ASAFI HARAVI
(XV century)
To open the elixir, we need three prowess
get:
Humanity, kindness in everything
and fidelity 6 dangerous way.
These three virtues - the essence of man, meet
rarely are they;
And the man himself, like the Ankh bird, is his
impossible to find.
And sorrow and joy - all that was "I",
Erased from the tablet of life.
So do not grieve, created from dust,
That your life will become dust again.
OMARHAYAM
(c. 1048 - after 1122)
Get up, don't worry! What sadness about the mortal languish?
Come join us for a cup of fun.
If the disposition of fate were constant,
Then you would never have had to be born.
If you want the foundation of being to be strong
And spend at least two days without evil despondency,
Never shy away from fun and always drink,
To have time to drink all the delights from the earthly phial.
When I was the creator - the lord of the universe,
I would overthrow the ancient sky from the base
And he created a new one - one under which
Omsh all good wishes would be fulfilled.
SAIFI ISFARANGI
(died in the 11th/11th century)
With the bright radiance of the feast, your dwelling is illuminated.
In the throat of your enemy, let wine turn into fire!
Only with you at the feast others have fun today.
Drink, but over a cup sometimes remember us - long gone.
AFZA KASHANI
(died 1307)
The spirit of anxiety has seized people in our days.
The one who pursued profit lost everything.
Happy is he who, from turmoil, has withdrawn from the human,
And unfortunate, who fell into the tornado of this turmoil.
There is a balm for ailments, for fever in the blood.
From the torment of love, healing is in love.
Events in the world alternate rapidly.
Not forever our troubles! Live in hope!
If you really want your greatness
achieve - do not oppress anyone in the world.
Don't think about the end, don't worry about bread.
Kse will come in his turn - such is the case with everything.
Let you everyday bad weather
Always bypassed.
As always, take good care of
Beautiful features in the soul.
As before, generously give to everyone
Fire of warmth.
NAZRU ISLAM
(1899-1976)
I sing a song of equality
for you - for husband and wife.
Two halves of life -
you are inseparable and equal.
There is no inequality between you, -
one you. bound by fate.
Everything in common - luck, work,
sins, sadness, sobbing, pain.
The man is the day. scorching heat
daylight is his hand.
You, woman, are the shadow of the night,
dew, coolness and river.
Day is strength and impulse
a. night - peace and quiet.
The man is thirsty. get drunk
drunk on him.
A man leads a plow in the field. He is a plowman
so it is.
A woman is the law
throws grain into the furrow.
The husband plowed the land,
and the woman will give her water,
And life will wake up and rise
and there will be bountiful fruit.
True friend everywhere
Faithful, in happiness and trouble;
Your sadness worries him
You don't sleep - he can't sleep
And in everything, without distant words,
He is ready to help you.
W. Shakespeare
Master, pour some wine for everyone!
I want, as before, a noisy meeting.
Let the toasts be witty
Let the song flow more cheerfully!
Under a peaceful festive motive
Dreams sparkle like sparkles
New desires will be born.
Shake off your worries,
And warmed by the power of joy,
Let's remember the poet's verse:
Friends, our union is beautiful!
OMARHAYAM
(c. 1048 - after 1122)
If there is a beauty, wine and a cup of ringing,
And the bank over the stream is autumnal with branches, -
No need for better, let the world be called hell.
And if. there is Eden, believe me, it is no better!
This vault is blue and the basin on it is golden
For a long time they will circle over the earthly vanity.
We are uninvited guests, we came for a short time,
After someone we came, before someone we will leave in succession.
You, my mind, are walking along the paths of search
And you don’t get tired of repeating a hundred times a day:
Appreciate the moment of communication with friends!
You are a meadow, but mowed, you will not sprout again!
If you leave hypocritical prayers in a tavern, -
well.
If you take the beautiful peri by the curls, it's good.
Remember, until fate has time to drink your blood,
If you pour your goblet with the blood of a jug, -
well.
JALALADDIN ROMI
(1207-1273)
For wise advice, incline your ear two earlier,
three days,
Get rid of the languor of the spirit two or three days earlier.
This world is like a decrepit old woman - is it worth
grieve
If you part with this old woman two early,
three days?
Let the lovers be sincerely drunk, in disgrace,
They are eternally alarmed by the spirit and with madness in their eyes.
How painfully in sobriety we mourn and yearn,
And in the holy intoxication - we do not have grief.
If you are an idol, from now on I will honor idols.
Kohl you. if you bring wine, from now on my life is in wine.
May I lose myself in merging with you,
Love non-existence is not better than being?
Let the perspicacious soul cherish love.
Look for the one who belongs to you from time immemorial.
And those who are capable of upsetting the soul, those forever
You are forbidden. May your soul flee from them.
We drink wine at the feast of lovers,
But the heart is enlightened by the truth.
School knowledge is only a shadow of knowledge,
Quite different knowledge has been given to us.
The laziness of our meeting is my holiday. Come!
Let's leave the world's evil behind!
Let the vault of heaven threaten us with troubles, -
What troubles, if love is alive in the chest?
You can't raise an army without money
And without weapons to protect the fortress.
Take the glass vessel carefully
To not drop or break.
SALMAN SAVEJI
(circa 1300-1376)
O circle! Where is your foundation?
This circle is wrong - our being.
Let the sky spread your pillow
Don't rest your elbow on it.
Love leads through the desert
And through the mountain ranges
And it does not get cold in the wind,
And not afraid of heights.
MUSLIHADDIN SAADI
(between 1203 and 1210 - 1292)
Not everyone who is royally dressed,
Kine of his pride drunk.
Unfortunate is the rich man who despises
Everyone with whom he was friends when he was poor.
Do not rush to a hundred with a dozen warriors.
Beware of enemy ambushes at the limit.
For now you. strong - drive, push the enemy,
And if the enemy is stronger, - and do not shun the world.
Torah to the heart that knows no pain.
The dead stone does not listen to stories of love.
The star song only sounds for lovers,
D&S rises only above that which burns with fire.
Where the tree of love bears fruit
There are gardens strewn with pearls,
There. holy in people fidelity, laws,
There, a friend comes to rescue out of trouble.
Or run away from the world into a hermit's cell,
Or burn your belongings in the fire of lust,
Or revel in all the beauty of the earth,
Or sew your eyelids so as not to see a single thing.
OMARHAYAM
(c. 1048 - after 1122)
Drink wine! It is the source of immortality and light,
In it - the flowering of spring and past summers.
Be happy for a moment among flowers and friends,
For life is concluded in this moment.
The ruins of the past were washed away by the spill. And more beautiful -
With the edges full - the bowl of life shines.
Do not be careless, friend - Fate is like a thief in the night,
He will come and take away the belongings of our life.
As long as you are alive - do not offend anyone,
Do not burn anyone with the flame of anger.
If you want to taste rest and peace,
Suffer for sure, but do not oppress anyone.
When you sit at a circular bowl,
About a friend who has gone forever, remember,
When it's my turn to drink
You turn the full cup upside down.
When the time comes and you part with your soul,
There for. veil of eternal secrets. - see the world
different...
Drink, if you don't know where you're from. came,
Where will you go next and what will become of you there.
Blue in the dark...
Tenderness and kindness
the smell of the living earth - roses
on your birthday.
petal music,
joy aroma - roses
on your birthday.
came to me again
passion,
blood boiled.
Thousand Star Light - Roses
on your birthday.
Scarlet thick sunset
sunshine, green glitter
sleepy big moon. - roses
on your birthday.
Burden a measured step,
the sound of a running clock,
burst of smile, flight
hearts, empty hum,
the singing of the spring, the fury of the mountain river,
hurricane wrath, smoke
blue over the hearth - roses
on your birthday...
Against longing and lies
above the yellowness of evil - roses
on your birthday.
The bitter ozone of spring
the smell of eyelashes and lips - roses
on your birthday.
swollen riverbeds,
meeting before the storm - roses
on your birthday.
I believe winter will pass
and the door opens...
Red in the morning
blue in the semi-darkness - roses.
on your birthday.
Centenary oak at the crossroads
The smoke of the evening fields
And the voice of a teenage girl
Friends of my youth.
What if we broke up
I didn't even have time to admit
What did we dream about, what did we dream about
Under that thoughtful chant.
Me in a difficult hour at the crossroads
A hundred-year-old oak will dream again
And the voice of a teenage girl
Sing about first love.
And I'll straighten my shoulders again
Easily, as in youth, I will sigh,
And our songs, our meetings
I will say goodbye.
N. I. Rylenkov
OMARHAYAM
(c. 1048 - after 1122)
In life, this intoxication is the best,
Gentle houri singing the best,
free thought boiling best,
Oblivion is the best of all prohibitions.
Who and when invented to give birthday poems, is not exactly known. But this tradition is still alive today. But not everyone can compose a verse on their own.
And the Internet, although it is replete with the headings “poems on your birthday” or “congratulations in verse”, in reality it does not offer a very wide choice. Most congratulatory verses or SMS are not only of the same type, but often sin with primitive rhymes like “Birthday - a poem”, “congratulations - wish”, etc. Finding an original and beautiful congratulatory rhyme or couplet is sometimes difficult. For this occasion, we bring to your attention a beautiful selection of congratulatory poems written by recognized Russian poets.
Poetic congratulations on your birthday
Alexander Pushkin
ALTHOUGH POEMS FOR NAME DAYS…
Although name day poems
Natalia, Sophia, Katerina
Not in fashion anymore, maybe:
But I, your faithful admirer,
I, as a sign of exemplary obedience
Ready to serve you.
But I curse myself
When I know why
You have been baptized with grace!
No, no, in my opinion.
And your speech, and a dull look,
And the leg (I dare to tell you) -
All of this is extremely sweet.
But evil, not grace.
TO ALBUM
For a long time these cherished sheets
I did not touch with a pen;
Guilty, in my table
For a long time without lines of greetings
Your album is stuck.
On the birthday, very incidentally,
I'm happy to wish you
Lots of grace
Many sweet delights -
There is a lot of thunder on Parnassus,
There are many quiet days in life
And on your conscience
Not a single album
From beauties, from friends.
NAME DAYS
Multiply noise and joy;
Sing songs in a good hour:
Friendship, grace and youth
We have birthdays.
Meanwhile the child is winged,
Welcoming you, friends,
Secretly thinks: once
I will be the birthday boy!
Nikolai Nekrasov
BIRTHDAY
How many thoughts a birthday brings!
How many feelings in the soul he stirs!
He will bless him from the bottom of his heart
And spend with friends in pleasure.
And there is another ... Painful and dull,
Runs under the shadow of parental graves
And there, in the heat of criminal thought,
He curses and asks from heaven
In the lot of the earth, as mercy, madness,
So that the terrible day will disappear from memory! ..
Crazy is he who is glad for him; insane
Who dared to reproach and curse him.
Happy - this face is neither festive nor dumen,
Who in front of him neither grew nor grew shy;
To whom with no careless joy,
That day will not bring bitter torment;
Who whispers that life is not endless,
What more he, perhaps, will not come!
Petr Vyazemsky
SONG FOR THE BIRTHDAY OF V. A. ZHUKOVSKY
On this day God gave us a friend -
And we celebrate this day!
Let there be snow and blizzard all around
And the shadow of the January night;
You, Vielgorsky, by the moisture of the south
Cup northern stump!
We all drink, we all open
Bottom of hearts and bottom of cups
In honor of the one we drink
We have loved for a long time!
Be our toast to him,
And from the city of Petra
Let him go to Baden-Baden
Our Russian cheers!
He has a wonderful gift
To solder us all around:
He warms the soul,
He charms the mind with the mind
And magically the rumor cherishes
Intoxicating verse.
And young in spirit under old age,
He's still the same magician!
Strings breathe sweet song,
And the soul is full of rays.
Be our toast to him,
And from the city of Petra
Let him go to Baden-Baden
Our Russian cheers!
Fate separated us
He is thrown into someone else's end;
But our feelings connected with him,
But he is our twin heart;
There is no separation, no
For sympathetic hearts.
Tender friendship by secret power
And ahead of fate
In us in absentia - our dear friend,
And we are the life of the heart - in it.
Be our toast to him,
And from the city of Petra
Let him go to Baden-Baden
Our Russian cheers!
Quiet joyful longing
At this hour, embraced by myself,
Maybe he's a dream
He clung to us and listens to us,
And a smile and a tear
Responds to friends!
Joy in him argues with sadness,
He is happy and sad
Silently echoes our songs
And thank you friends.
Be our toast to him,
And from the city of Petra
Let him go to Baden-Baden
Our Russian cheers!
January 1849
Nikolay Yazykov
CONGRATULATIONS TO M. N. DIRINA
Today is your birthday
Congratulate you - I'm very happy
But in them I see - to blame -
Mistake of an important fate:
And how did she come up with
April first day -
This day, by deceit of the famous -
On a holiday you determine;
And how not ashamed of her to sin
So reckless and open!
Oh, if I were in charge
Fate's mysterious deeds!
I have chosen the best day for you
Between the most beautiful days
The very day when the whole world
His joy triumphs;
When the playing marshmallow
Luxurious kisses flowers
And with a quiet babble, slightly,
The living moisture of the brook
Jets of light excite;
When under the dusk of branches
Fragrant oak forest
Now sweet, now majestic
The nightingale whistles in spring;
When the sky is blue
Shines with full beauty
And something unearthly blows
Above the enchanted land.-
All this is by the way for you - and who
I would blame the wisdom of fate,
That this time is not like
For your name day?
Yazykov Nikolay
M. N. DIRINA
An Treue und Gehorsam bin ich
der Alte; aber ich habe mir das
schwatzen angewohnt.
Goethe-Egmont (*)
Happy by the grace of fate
That I am both Russian and a poet,
I carry on your name day
My congratulations.
Let them always own you
Pure beauty friends:
Freedom, joy and dreams
With their unfeigned gifts;
Let your days shine
How are your thoughts, your eyes,
Or the captivating Aurora
Live, fresh lights.
Wherever I am - I swear to the gods -
In the country native and non-native,
Do we love windy fate
Or an orphan under heaven,
For a folio, for a pen,
At the thunder of the swearing tympanum,
At the sound of lyre and glass,
Overseas full wine -
Always helpful my genius
Will remind me of you
And Dorpat, and glory, and Parnassus
And the garden of the Radshof shadow.
Here's an example for you: in Russia - there,
Where is the majestic nature
Student-singer, I lived with half a year.
To my discerning eyes
There were marvelous pictures:
I'm mature like the early snows
Silver fell on the peaks
And wide meadows
How the Volga foamed the abysses,
How the shores trembled
Like naked oak groves
The autumn wind stirred
And in the powder walked around the field;
I've seen rural fun
I saw the wedding, I saw the light -
And what did the poet feel?
Full of saving anger
My open soul
Was boring, not good
What a stupid girl.
She prayed to heaven
Fix the air and the road
And thank God, thank God
I'm here. - My paradise, my beauty,
Queen of free pleasures,
Where are you, goddess of song?
Come! Exalted is your gift
Fill me up, charm me
And the heart of youthful heat
To work beautiful will feel!
The example is not short: there is no need,
I accuse you
What was dreaming; - but dreams
The poet lives and works
And the thing is: in the world from a young age,
Rich in creativity
He burns with sweet passion,
The soul follows its ideal -
And then I found ... It was not there!
The favorite of the muse missed,
(Farewell, captivating happiness!)
Before him in the wrapper of a deity
Some soulless words
One cold fate.
Whom does he love? Dreams!
He revives the heart with them
And sweetly, proudly forgets
Your captivity and heavenly features
Facial and brain beauty.
Ah, I forgot! From subject
Where are my poems going?
Forgive your poet
I'm right, I'm wrong,
What blabbed out of place.
It would be a hundred times better
In my secret journal
About an incomprehensible ideal
Write what is said here.
But be as it is, I don't care!
I know your favor!
Won't surprise, won't touch you
My thoughtless story
My dreams restlessness!
Time for me to finish my hello
And the boredom of your patience;
When something is missing in the soul
When pleasures are not sweet
When your favorite star
For inspirational work
Wrong, cloudy shines,
The deceived singer is bored
And without consolation Pierid,
Without pitiful courage
Hanging your head sitting
And languidly looks at the papers.
Now I heartily confess
I'm not fit for Parnassus!
And be not your name day,
I would remain silent, as I am silent,
When without purpose and reason
I don't want to spread.
Enough! Not! still my genius
He asks you, bowing to you:
Don't wait for an explanation
His cryptic words;
The time will come - after May
He will tell you in detail
What a fatal force
To the evil of Parnassus and the mind,
April spoiled him;
He also asks: for God's sake,
No one without Harpocrates
You do not show this notebook.
* In fidelity and obedience, I am the former; but I love to talk. Goethe
"Egmont" [Ed]
Alexander Bestuzhev
ON NAME DAY
Al. and V. M……..th
An unwitting guest in the land of a foreign land,
Forgotten light, forgotten flattery,
I wish you a birthday
Bring the most charming flowers:
They are a breath of delight
They are the joy of the eyes.
With them, I would not need to write
Congratulatory speeches to you:
Desire for happiness without sorrow
In flowers, you yourself would have guessed ...
But - ah! - Yakut spring
Not green and not red!
And the local May, cold, wild,
One snow lingonberry,
And not rich in lilies.
Nature sleeps, and in the whole field
I got hold of one shot
I heard this outfit
They don't give for birthdays.
So, willy-nilly
I had to take up the pen
Although I forgot in a gloomy lot
The writing is funny and colorful.
accept it kindly
And in the noise of the festive day
Don't judge me
For my hello simple and sleepy.
There is truth in it - every feature;
Moreover, your kindness
By ear, by heart and at home
And strangely familiar to the stranger ...
In the land of winter and winter friendship,
Believe me, you are the only one
Your conversation is hospitable
Reminded friends and me
About the unforgettable side.
Oh, be the same virtue
And her brother is with her - peace,
Like a constant sentinel
Your heart is on guard;
Yes, no sadness shadow
The quiet light of fun does not frown,
And having a fun day
In the morning you will get up healthy ...
May your dreams be clear
Like the sky of the southern spring,
And hopeless hopes
And before you all the ignorant,
At least they are modest;
The advice of a friend is pure and true,
The circle of acquaintances is not hypocritical,
Busy boston,
No ballroom violins roar and groan!
When on the shores of the great
On the banks of my Neva,
Leaving the land of wild frosts,
You will fly like an arrow
May relatives meet the traveler,
Carefree youth friends
And everyone is not strangers to the heart,
And the whole family
Happy and healthy
And ardor, and separation are new,
And laughter, and joy, and questioning,
And the sweet rain of goodbye tears !!.
Why, a spark of hope -
Survive until a sweet date -
Have you gone out in my chest?
But I stepped out of line
Forty-verst message.
It's time for me and you to calm down
The loquacity of my pen,
But know: it's all from the beginning
Truth fastened point by point,
Though incorruptible and strict;
Here I did not weave lace out of flattery
Your Most Obedient Servant
. . . …… in.
Vladimir Benediktov
AVDOTYE PAVLOVNA BAUMGARTEN
From your young days of birth
A blessed day is familiar to me -
And here I am with a tribute of congratulations
Now I'm going to you old man,
I am writing sick, but the spirit does not grieve,
Only my flesh is in disorder,
And the verse is true to me, the rhyme serves,
And your former admirer is me.
I passed the test of life, -
I and now everything is yours, near the coffin,
There was no change. - Not once
In the circle of life
Honorary title of a friend
I was honored from you -
And it's a flattering name.
Always dearest to me;
To him I carry an excuse
In the soul, completely devoted to you,
Just like when I was young.
I have cooled, but if it hurts
To another feeling this cold,
That feeling of friendship he strengthens,
And this feeling is a lot of power
Gives me and at the door of the grave, -
With him I carry you for many years
Live salutary my hello,
Boris Pasternak
BRYUSOV
I congratulate you as I am a father
I would congratulate you under the same circumstances.
It is a pity that in the Bolshoi Theater under the heart
They will not lay mats, as if under their feet.
It is a pity that it is customary in the world to scrape
At the entrance to life there are only soles; it's a pity,
That the past laughs and is sad
And the wickedness of the day is waving a stick.
You are honored. A little scary rite,
Where you, as a thing, will be shown from all sides
And the gold of fate will be silvered,
And, maybe, they will oblige to silver in response.
What can I say? That Bryusova is bitter
Widespread fate?
That the mind is stale in the realm of the fool?
What is not a trifle - to smile, tormented?
What is the sleepy civil verse
You were the first to open the door to the city wide open?
That the wind swept away the husk from citizenship
And we tore our wings into feathers?
That you disciplined the swing
Furious rhymes chasing clay
And they were brownies in our homes
And the devil of childish discipline?
That I then, perhaps, will not die,
That, now tired of gili to death,
You yourself, there was a time in the morning
Did they teach us not to die with a ruler?
To break in the door of vulgar axioms,
Where do words lie and eloquence templelet? ..
O! the whole of Shakespeare, perhaps, only in
What easily chats with the shadow of Hamlet.
It's so easy! There are birthdays.
Tell me, shadow, what would you like for him?
It's easier to live that way. And then almost do not demolish
Experienced heard complaints.