#valery bryusov

[haveyoureadthisbook-poll]

#the fiery angel #valery bryusov #book poll #have you read this book poll #polls

[femalehieronymusbosch]

Valery Bryusov

#excerpts #writings #literature #poetry #fragments #selections #words #quotes #poetry in translation #typography #russian literature #russian poetry #love #russian classics #русская литература #русская поэзия #valery bryusov #валерий брюсов

[derangedrhythms]

Briusov also approvingly noted Tsvetaeva's poetic gift and her "terrible intimacy" but added that her verse "at times becomes embarrassing, as though you'd peered impolitely through a half-closed window into someone else's apartment and witnessed a scene that outsiders should not see."

Jamey Gambrell, from the introduction to Marina Tsvetaeva's 'Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries, 1917-1922'

#jamey gambrell #marina tsvetaeva #earthly signs #other writing #valery bryusov

[paleode-ology]

just read rebellion of the machines by valery bryusov - just a short story, literally like five pages long, but I thought it was very clever actually! won’t spoil but I thought the ending was clever. it was thought-provoking but a pretty easy and light-hearted read; overdramatic russian is my fave form of literature tbh

#rebellion of the machines #valery bryusov #literature #Russian literature #it’s from 1908 which is crazy tbh #I read it in this anthology of Soviet era sci-fi I got from my Russian prof #and tbh it’s sooo good #like this was the third one I think I’ve read from it and they’ve all been super different which I love #like different writing styles different themes different methods of storytelling #I think a lot of people think Russian lit is all the same and I’m here to tell you it isn’t !!!!

[everydayesterday]

'Le voix de la ville’ by Valère Brussov [Valery Bryusov]  

[English: “The voice of the city,” translated from Russian, by the author and by Alexandre Mercereau), as published in 1909 in POESIA (Milan, Italy) (issues available online).  

« Nous ne sommes point égaux à l’échelle des existences.  A vous de vivre des années, à moi de vivre une suite de siècles. »  

[“We are not equal on the ladder of existence.  You may live years; I live centuries and centuries.”  tr. mine.]

#poetry #poèsie #poesia #poem #valery bryusov #1900s #1909 #vintage magazines #poetry revue #poetry magazine #vintage #antique

[junkieicarus]

The fire here has long gone cold. Like a snake surveying its molted skin, I gaze upon what I was.

valery bryusov "at home"

#poetry #poetscommunity #sad poem #writers and poets #valery bryusov #poem #literature

[xphaiea]

Valery Bryusov

[eto-ena]

here's a comp of completely random pictures in russian that make me giggle: pt 1??

(news article) a blogger got lost in a forest shooting a video on how to not get lost in a forest

um so whens this gonna turn into crab flavored lays

"please, don't knock on the glass! Dusen'ka is resting!"

-aha, you've got lack of tea and sweets -i knew it

a poet Valery Bryusov sitting under a table because he likes it

and my personal favorite that doesn't need a translation:

have a great holiday!

#russian #russian language #learn russian #langbr #languages #russian memes #memes #best memes

[katakankollector]

FIRE ANGEL SENTENCE STARTERS Sentences were taken from a novel "The Fire Angel" (1908) by Valery Bryusov and depict magic, witchcraft, madness, occult practice, demonic possession, toxic love in a medieval setting. TW for profanity, mental illness and general dark themes. Change names and pronouns as necessary. The translation is by me. The list shall be updated with time. [ art credit: "Triptych of the Temptation of St. Anthony" by Hieronymus Bosch ]

He can not encroach upon those of a strong will.

Now I must share my life with you, for you have saved me, and must know all there is to know about me. 

Oh, sir knight, better not to ask about her!

Now I see how she suffers, how she weeps all day and all night long.

We need to leave immediately, this very instant! I can’t abide this place for an hour longer. 

I have no horse. You can help me up the saddle and lead your horse by the bridle.

The city is not far. It is possible to buy another horse there. 

I will prove to her I am not such a simpleton or an ignoramus she takes me for.

A woman of beauty is worthy of a sacrifice.

Come now, com quickly! Otherwise, she will get tired and her powers of divination will vain.

She is reading the past as if it’s an open book.

I tried divination on the bones, on the vax, on the cards, on the beans.

Off with you, witch! Otherwise I shall run your cursed body through, as if you were a fish!

She revealed to me what I myself have long forgotten.

No, no, [ name ], you must not leave! I can not stay alone. I am frightened.

I knew it before; she merely read my thoughts.

Don’t you love him? Is it possible not to love him? He is of heaven, he is the only one!

Aren’t we the one? Doesn’t my pain pierce your heart as it pierces mine?

[ Name ]! A demon has possessed you!

There is no demon inside of me. In vain you planned to deceive me and mock me. I am not as foolish as you think!

You must not be cross with me and ask of me what I can not give.

I have neither kisses, nor fervent words left for mortal men. 

[ Name ], I shall be terrified if you leave. They shall attack me again and torment me all night long. You must stay by my side.

My kind heart might have led me into sin by giving a shelter to a heretic who had signed a pact with the devil.

If the devil is chasing after her, it is naught to me.

#🩸katakankollector: rp memes #feel free to reblog #rp sentence starters #rp meme #rp starters #medieval starters

[polymorphousculturevulture]

Mikhaïl Aleksandrovitch Vroubel - Portrait du poète Valery Yakovlevich Bryusov. 1906

[magicwingslisten]

Valery Bryusov

The measured sound of wheels...

The measured sound of wheels, The field, the row of birches, And many muddled feelings; Race past, race past, race past.

The measured noise and hum, The sky’s impending horizon, And many muddled thoughts; Further!  Farther!  Distant!

                                                                        Translated by Alex Cigale

Валерий Брюсов Мерный шум колёс…

Мерный шум колёс, Поле, ряд берёз, Много мутных грёз; Мчимся, мчимся, мчимся…

Мерный шум и шум, Свод небес угрюм, Много мутных дум; Дальше! Дальше! Дальше!

12 апреля 1896

#poetry #bryusov #briusov

[kiramoran]

A drawing of Valery Bryusov by Mikhail Vrubel, 1906

In 1894 young poet Valery Bryusov publishes the single edition of literary magazine "Russian Symbolists", the unofficial manifesto of a new literary movement (where in fact he has published his own poems under a number of different pen names). In the preface, he writes that the purpose of symbolism is to capture subtle states of mind, to convey them in vague images, hints. Following the poets, artists also reach for symbolism, Mikhail Vrubel too. He would undertake to paint a portrait of Bryusov, but dies before he could finish it.

Bryusov would later confess that all his life he was striving to become the version of himself depicted in this portrait.

#i study symbolists for the exam #and i’ll make it everyone’s problem #russian literature

[artdaily7]

Eventide by Valery Bryusov

The posters shout, their gorgeous motley blares, The signboards' groaning fills the street, And from the shops a shrill light sharply flares, As cries of triumph mock defeat. Behind the glimmering panes soft fabrics sleep, And diamonds pour their poison daze, Above massed coins the lottery numbers leap Like northern lights ablaze. The burning streets like long canals of light Flow on—the city is alive. It swarms to celebrate the dawn of night Like some unloosed and monstrous hive. The sky and all its sentient stars are hid By scattered arc-lamps beaming blue. And harlots jostle sages where they thrid The dancers in a rippling queue. Between the gay quadrilles that form and break, Among the waltzers, clanking slide The tramways, with blue lightnings in their wake; Like sheaves of fire, the motors glide. Shame, like a leader his bright baton wielding To the rank music of the wheels, Has fused the thousand-throated throng, that yielding As one, a holy chorus peals: "Dust, we enthrone thee; brief and radiant Dust, Dancing the round, we glorify, About electric altars where they thrust Their spears into the empty sky."

Vincent van Gogh 1889 The Starry Night, Oil on canvas, Museum of Modern Art, New York City

#van Gogh #Vincent van Gogh #The Starry Night #Starry Night #Valery Bryusov #Bryusov #Eventide #Art #Poetry #Fine Arts #Painting #Poems #Russian Poetry #the city is alive

[askimehnaz]

Nisan

Bir hayal mi, doğa mı yoksa şarkılar mırıldanan, Gökyüzü müdür tatlı düşü kavalın? Yapraklar tiril tiril Çınlıyor bu nisan gününde aydınlık ve gölge, Rüzgar, yalnız sen, bakır borular çalıyorsun, Bütün acemiliğinle, az ötede.

Valery Bryusov

#günaydın #nisan #iki kum tanesi #wind chimes #valery bryusov

[lioninsunheart]

“Night fell. The full moon shone sweetly and tremulously, bewitching and foreboding with rays which were cold and funereally silent. The heart of the Youth was filled with an apprehensive fear as he went up to his window. His hand, clutching the edge of the yellow curtain, hesitated and vacillated for a long time before he resolved to draw the curtain slowly aside. The yellow linen rustled as it slowly gathered, and its rustle was like the barely audible hissing of a serpent in the forest's undergrowth; and the thin brass rings jingled and scraped against the brass curtain rod. The Beauty stood beneath the window and looked at the window and waited. And the heart of the Youth shuddered, and he could not make out whether his heart was seized by ecstasy or terror. The black braids of the Beauty were undone and fell on her naked shoulders. A sharply outlined shadow lay on the ground beside her. Illuminated from the side by the moon, she stood like some distinct and well-defined spectre. That half of her face which was illuminated by the moon, as well as her shoulders and her arms, were deathly white, as white as her robe. The folds of her white robe were severe and dark. Dark was the azure of her eyes, mysterious her frozen smile. A smooth, burnished clasp, fastened at the shoulder, gleamed dully against the strange tranquility of her body and garments. She began to speak softly, and her words, ringing like the fine silver chains of a lighted censer, gave forth a fragrance of ambergris, musk and lily. ("The Poison Garden” ― Valery Bryusov, The Silver Age of Russian Culture: An Anthology

#valery bryusov #forest muse #ecstatic apparition #passion #moonlight

[conversations-of-poets]

Памяти Брюсова

Мы умираем, Сходим в тишь и грусть, Но знаю я — Нас не забудет Русь.

Любили девушек, Любили женщин мы — И ели хлеб Из нищенской сумы.

Но не любили мы Продажных торгашей. Планета, милая,— Катись, гуляй и пей.

Мы рифмы старые Раз сорок повторим. Пускать сумеем Гоголя и дым.

Но все же были мы Всегда одни. Мой милый друг, Не сетуй, не кляни!

Вот умер Брюсов, Но помрем и мы,— Не выпросить нам дней Из нищенской сумы.

Но крепко вцапались Мы в нищую суму. Валерий Яклевич! Мир праху твоему!

1924 Сергей Есенин

#by yesenin #to bryusov #language: russian #poetry #sergei yesenin #valery bryusov