Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
Innokentiy Fyodorovich Annensky (Russian: Инноке́нтий Фёдорович А́нненский (September 1, 1855 N.S. Omsk–December 13, 1909 N.S. Saint Petersburg) was a poet, critic and translator, representative of the first wave of Russian Symbolism. Sometimes cited as a Slavic counterpart to the poètes maudits, Annensky managed to render into Russian the essential intonations of Baudelaire and Verlaine, while the subtle music, ominous allusions, arcane vocabulary, the spell of minutely changing colours and odours were all his own. His influence on the first post-Symbolist generation of poets (Akhmatova, Gumilyov, Mandelshtam) was paramount.
Born in Omsk, 1 September (although this date ... more »
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Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky Poems
A Gas Butterfly
Tell me what's happening to me? Why is my heart beating so fervently? why has this madness, like a wave, Broken through the rock of habit?
Bow and Strings
S. B. f-Shtein There is such love that’s similar to smoke: If it is bound – it’s intoxicating, Receiving freedom – vanished, not awaiting…
The life’s chance and creative spirit United painfully in you, And midst the beauty’s hitting views
Among the worlds, the sparkling spheres, The name of One Star only I repeat... It's not because I love Her dearly But just because I pine with others.
My eyes forgot the heavens’ blue, To them the sun’s dust is not gold, But I live just one substance through,
My Life's Burden...
My life’s burden’s for me light and shone, I won’t you to be baffled or wound; And not God, who had thought on a stone –
You're Again With Me
You're again with me, my girlfriend autumn? But through your net of the boughs bared, Bluish tints were ne’er such pale and frozen,
I Thought That the Heart...
I thought that the heart made of stone, That it’s fully empty and dead: Though fire in it had been thrown, It’s not damaged or just upset.
Has time come? I’m fully ready. If we’ve sinned – there’s no a chance… We – to prisons, they – to gladness… Give to children – sun and grass!
To the Poet
In different clearness of rays, In addling amalgam of visions We always live in world’s things’ reign With its triad of space division.
After the Concert
The blackened skies have reached the garden walk; Yet my poor heart tonight cannot be not the restless…
In midst of waves, there are the silver beads And scraped by time paints of the white enamel … I so like the morns which autumn breeds,
The Spring Romance
The river else doesn’t wholly reign, But pale-blue ice is drowned now; And clouds are not blue again, But sun had drunk the snow out.
Comments about Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
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A Gas Butterfly
Tell me what's happening to me?
Why is my heart beating so fervently?
why has this madness, like a wave,
Broken through the rock of habit?
Is it my strength or just my torment
I'm too disturbed to tell:
From the shimmering lines of life
I extract a forgotten phrase...
Is it a thief who turns his lantern
Upon the crowd of dreary letters?
I can't help reading the phrase,
But haven't the strength to go back...
It really had to flare up,
But it only harries the darkness;
All night, like a gas-flame butterfly
It trembles, but ...