Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok Lost Poems

  • 1.
    My monastery, where I'm badly pining,
    Is granite, melted by the burning mind.
    I'm strangled and blinded under this heat, lying,
    And leave it, trying a new cell to findâ?¦
    ...
  • 2.
    Halls grew darker and somehow faded.
    Grates of windows drowned in black.
    Every knight, every beautiful lady
    Knew the tiding: "The Queen's deadly sick."
    ...
  • 3.
    In the harbor passive,
    Just where green water calmly sleeps,
    Set in the column, strong and massive,
    Appeared navy's silent ships.
    ...
  • 4.
    In summer, hot, and winter, snow-clad,
    In days you bury, wed, or feast at home,
    I wait for easy, never ever heard
    Ringing - to free myself of devastating boredom.
    ...
  • 5.
    All perished, all! The sun, in flame and brilliance,
    As did it long before, the years' circle fulfils.
    A sorrow grave deplores the past existence -
    That was so beautiful - under the solemn hills.
    ...
  • 6.
    Into crimson dark thou goest,
    Thy vast orbits mock the eye.
    Small the echo that thou throwest,
    Far, I hear thy footfalls die.
    ...
  • 7.
    Why, why forever to the deadly line
    I'm pushed unpityingly by blows of the Fortune?
    Whether all this, including life of mine,
    Are only moments of the endless torture?
    ...
  • 8.
    In the sea of high grass you'll be sunk with your head,
    In the house - with peace come alongâ?¦
    She'll embrace with her arms, veil around with her plait.
    'Hi, my prince,' she will say, slim and strong.
    ...
  • 9.
    Spring breaks in rivers the ice-floes,
    And I don't pity my sweet dead:
    Having subdued my heights and roads,
    Forgot I winter narrow lows,
    ...
Total 9 Lost Poems by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok

Top 10 most used topics by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok

Night 15 I Love You 14 Love 14 Dark 13 Light 12 Heart 12 Clear 10 Soul 10 Lost 9 Face 9

Write your comment about Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok


Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

Read complete poem

Popular Poets