Modern Moscow

"How often would I fall to musing
of Moscow in the mournful days
of absence on my wandering ways!
Moscow... how many strains are fusing
in that one sound, for Russian hearts!
what store of riches it imparts!.."

- A.S. Pushkin (tr.Ch.Johnston)

I have found an incredible collection of photos of Moscow, which was assembled by my friend Natasha, some were taken by her, some were taken by photographers Ilya Varlamov and Roman Vershinin. I could not go past them, they are amazing, I had to re-publish them here.....

It is fascinating to see how the place where you grew up and you used to know really well, changes without you. When you have not been there for awhile, have not seen it, and then all of a sudden, it's so different, so strange, but still it feels the same way, when you're looking at it.

     "Here stands, with shady park surrounded,
     Petrovsky Castle; and the fame
     in which so lately it abounded
     rings proudly in that sombre name.
     Napoleon here, intoxicated
     with recent fortune, vainly waited
     till Moscow, meekly on its knees,
     gave up the ancient Kremlin-keys:
     but no, my Moscow never stumbled
     nor crawled in suppliant attire.
     No feast, no welcome-gifts -- with fire
     the impatient conqueror was humbled!
     From here, deep-sunk in pensive woe,
     he gazed out on the threatening glow..."

     A.S. Pushkin (tr.Ch.Johnston)

Photo by Roman Vershinin

Photo by Ilya Varlamov

Photo by Roman Vershinin

Photo by Roman Vershinin

"Moscow, loved daughter of Russia,
          where can we find your equal?"
           - Dmitriev

Thinking about Moscow...

* * *
Yes! It"s settled! Now and for ever
I have left my dear old plain.
And the winged leaves of poplars will never
Ring and rustle above me again.

Our house will sag in my absence,
And my dog died a long time ago.
Me, I"m fated to die with compassions
In the crooked streets of Moscow, I know.

I admire this city of elm-trees
With decrepit buildings and homes.
Golden somnolent Asian entities
Are reposing on temple domes.

When the moonlight at night, dissipated,
Shines... like hell in the dark sky of blue!
I walk down the alley, dejected,
To the pub for a drink, maybe, two.

It"s a sinister den, harsh and roaring,
But in spite of it, all through the night
I read poems for girls that go whoring
And carouse with thieves with delight.

Now I speak but my words are quite pointless,
And the beat of my heart is fast:
"Just like you, I am totally worthless,
And I cannot re-enter the past".
Our house will sag in my absence.
And my dog died a long time ago.
Me, I"m fated to die with compassions
In the crooked streets of Moscow, I know.

Sergei Yesenin, transleted from Russian by Alex Vagapov
1922

* * *

Да! Теперь решено. Без возврата
Я покинул родные поля.
Уж не будут листвою крылатой-
Надо мною звенеть тополя.

Низкий дом без меня ссутулится,
Старый пес мой давно исдох.
На московских изогнутых улицах
Умереть, знать, судил мне бог.

Я люблю этот город вязевый,
Пусть обрюзг он и пусть одрях.
Золотая дремотная Азия
Опочила на куполах.

А когда ночью светит месяц,
Когда светит... черт знает как!
Я иду, головою свесясь,
Переулком в знакомый кабак.

Шум и гам в этом логове жутком,
Но всю ночь напролет, до зари,
Я читаю стихи проституткам
И с бандитами жарю спирт.

Сердце бьется все чаще и чаще,
И уж я говорю невпопад:
Я такой же, как вы, пропащий,
Мне теперь не уйти назад.

Низкий дом без меня ссутулится,
Старый пес мой давно издох.
На московских изогнутых улицах
Умереть, знать, судил мне бог.

Сергей Есенин
1922

Thinking about Moscow...

It has been awhile since I have visited Moscow. It's not easy sometimes to be far away from the place where you were born in.

It's nostalgic...
There are so many things I think about when I remember my Moscow, so many great memories. I love my Moscow, and those years I have spent there in this beautiful city!

Recently, I've been reading poetry of one Russian poet - Sergei Yesenin (Сергей Есенин). He is one of my favourite poets, he lived and wrote his works during the "Silver age" of Russian literature which was the beginning of 1900's.
He was a most talented, popular and loved poet.
Here is one of his poems.

Sergei Yesenin

     *  *  *

I have left my endeared   home,

Getting out of my Russia of blue.
    Little grove by the pond will warm
    My old mother"s sorrow anew.
   
    Like a golden croaker the moon
    Lies prostrate on the water tranquil.
    Grizzly hair, like apple-tree bloom,
    In my father"s beard will spill.
   
    I will not come back readily, and
   Singing blizzard will ring on and on.
   Maples guard my blue Russian land,
   Standing there, one-legged, all alone.
   
   And I know that it"s joyous for those
   Who"ve been kissing the rain of the leaves.
   For the maple and I, we both
   Are alike, in the head, that is.

   1918

Translated from Russian by Alec Vagapov

          *  *  *

Я покинул родимый дом, Голубую оставил Русь. В три звезды березняк над прудом Теплит матери старой грусть. Золотою лягушкой луна Распласталась на тихой воде. Словно яблонный цвет, седина У отца пролилась в бороде. Я не скоро, не скоро вернусь! Долго петь и звенеть пурге. Стережет голубую Русь Старый клен на одной ноге, И я знаю, есть радость в нем Тем, кто листьев целует дождь, Оттого, что тот старый клен Головой на меня похож. 1918