YURI Verkhovskaya
(Upon receipt of "Idylls and Elegies")
fine rain, unhurried conversation,
From under the cylinder lock of hair,
Laughter light and slightly sinful -
After all, as happened at meetings?
But here - some bright genius
With hazy torch
Your gift has brought into my house autumn,
Where am I - in anxiety and anguish.
And in the autumn forest cruel
I thought you, I like to have
For your every hint of new
In ancient, sad drawing.
we laughed, joking,
And everyone will have, may be,
Through playfulness languid idyll
Night mournful elegies swim.
September 1910
Valery Bryusov
(Upon receipt of "The Mirror of Shadows")
again, and your spirit is once again the mysterious
In a dull night, in the night empty
Commands to your dream only
Snuggle and drink your drink.
Communion again frantic soul,
And poison, and pain, and the sweetness of the drink,
And quietly turning the pages of a book,
Digging in the mirror of shadows…
Let be, inexpressible anguish tormenting,
Here beats the passion, zmeitsya sadness,
Enthusiastic storm event
promises end, murder - let!
That life is tortured, GLA, koverkala,
There was easy to dream,
And the field of mourning mirror
Transparent freezes beauty…
A beauty without words commanded:
«Forests, woods. live, live.
Let the wing shot through the soul -
Blood obagrit altar of love ".
20 Martha 1912
VLADIMIR Bestuzhev
(Answer)
Yes, I know: pierced the night otveka
invisible rays.
But no measure of human suffering,
Blinded at night!
Yes, I know, that the secret - the world is beautiful
(I knew thee, Love!),
But this ball of ice is tough and beautiful,
anger, as revenge, blood!
you know, that a light shines,
Obъemlya it to the bottom,
Is looking for us, that whistling wind lasts
another silence…
but stranger, one snowy night full,
Who gazed into the darkness,
dream, that is not the eternal light he went,
A beam came down to it.
23 Martha 1912
