Russian Modern Literature: my poetry

Russian Language Learning Club – Modern Russian Poetry

Russian Woman in loveI know there are a lot of people in the World who are interested in Russian literature. Almost everywhere are known such bright names of Russian classic literature as Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Lermontov and others. I love them all and value their impact on developing of Russian language very much.

From my early ages I loved to write and one of my favorite direction in literature was poetry. So I’d like to present you some of my poems in Russian with its English translation.

Here is the poem which I wrote 10 years ago, I like it very much. Listen and try to understand and remember the words.

Под стенами пыльного города тает осень.

А в городе листья не желты, а желто-серы.

Наверное, небо седое увидеть себя просит,

и в них отражается просто и так безмерно.

Частица небес отразится во мне колко.

Пусть, ею придавленный, стану чуть-чуть мельче…

Но буду писать я портреты любви долго

с идущих навстречу, в кого-то влюбленных женщин…

©Олег Винжегин, 2002


 Under walls of a dusty city the autumn thaws.

And in a city leaves are not yellow, and is yellow-sulphur.

Probably, the grey-haired sky asks to see itself,

And it is reflected in them simply and so immensely.

The particle of heavens will be reflected in me caustically.

Let, being pressed down by it, I will become slightly more small …

But I will paint love portrait for a long time

from meeting half-way, enamoured in someone women …

©Oleg Vinzhegin, 2002

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Oleg Vinzhegin,

Your personal guide into the world of excellent Russian speaking

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About Oleg Vinzhegin

Your personal guide into the world of excellent Russian speaking

Discuss: “Russian Modern Literature: my poetry”

  1. December 31, 2013 at 5:22 pm #

    By the walls of a dusty city the autumn is thawing.
    In the city the leaves aren’t yellow, but yellow-grayish.
    Perhaps, the gray-haired skies wish to be noticed,
    and thus mirror in them, simply and so immensely.
    A bit of skies will mirror in me keenly.
    May I, pressed down by it, become slightly smaller…
    Yet for a long time will be painting love portraits
    of passing-by women, in love with someone…

    Posted by Anna

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