The Great Britannia

Галина АМИРОВА | Поэзия


The Great Britannia

No-no, the Foggy Albion is not so foggy!
It is multicolored, bright, and many-faced.
And people feast their eyes from days bygone
On arches’ beauty, elegance and grace.
Church spires reach out to the skies.
The bridges-chains engird the rivers,
Stretch to the Clock to Greenwich Time
As tribute to the ages, a fashion ever fitting.
Britannia is great – her grounds are confined.
They are refined, encircled by the sea
Unearthly wonder – heather hides
The land wherever eye can see.
Here hosts of autos buzz along the way.
Together parked Ferrari and Rolls-Royce.
The Queen’s Life Guards stand at the Palace gates.
Delightful flowers make your heart rejoice.
Names born by those who have no peer:
Madame Tussauds, Lord Byron, Lennon
A pleaser of the stage — Shakespeare
Charles Dickens, Pinkerton and Nelson.
A brilliant head has on her shoulders
Britannia, for many times
The old Oxbridge, as they call it,
Was honored with the Nobel Prize.
Here from the Scottish sunlit fields
Up to the highlands valleys lay,
Descendants of her kings and queens
Guard giant castles and their fame.
Loch Ness, the greatest lake of lakes
Would swallow even Eifel’s tower.
Inimitably fairy Wales,
And ships – the country’s naval power.
Britannia’s Diana’s tartan mantle,
And Glasgow, Chester and Carlisle,
An ocean of beer at beefeaters’ banquet
And gourmet food, and real knights.
So many mysteries are buried there,
Uncountable precepts and old tales.
From royal barrels flows so rare
Like honey tasting ginger ale.
The path between the Tower and Windsor
Is glorious although it may seem thorny
For eyes and feet of worthy ones of Britain
Have crowned it with pride and glory.
I’m one of those who, conquering the sky,
Have seen Britannia and bowed.
There Roses White and Red both dream of Lions.
There all meridians start their count.

Though the world is distressed by rain

In a mirthless and wintry sky
The forlorn, quiet Moon escorts
Clouds floating by in endless tides
Beneath a starry celestial shawl.
My heart banishes out of mind
My unclaimed and untimely thoughts
However, it’s late, there’s no time,
Soon the world will embrace the fall.

Rainy drops tap the watercourses,
Drum against dark and sleepy windows,
Hits the shivering city with fury,
Like a mine-thrower clobbers lakes.
Why, oh why does this rain taste salty,
Warm and troubling against my lips?
My unclaimed and untimely endurance
Once again turned to be my shame.

Leaning closer to the ground
Flowers whisper, in gloom and dismay.
For they too are forever captive.
They don’t know what lies ahead…
Though wisdom and sense announce
That the world is distressed by rains.
My unclaimed and untimely happiness
Is about to burst from my chest!

Trees have changed their lovely faces
Their crowns have frowned at the flood.
Just a desperate guelder rose
Splashed its clusters with ruby red.
The unclaimed and untimely ray
Shines through time, warms my soul and blood,
And away to the land without woes
Like a winged flock flies ahead.

Trees have changed their lovely faces
Their crowns have frowned at the storm.
Just a desperate guelder rose
Splashed its clusters with ruby red.
The unclaimed and untimely ray
Shines through time, so fair and warm,
And away to the land without woes
Like a winged flock flies ahead.

Every city in Russia is a hero…

Blood has colored the sea and the streams.
Choked with smoke the heavens are crimson.
From bombardment the heavens are crimson.
Turned to ruins, to ashes, the city
Has been killed. However, it lives!

Our palms burn from the heat of the Sun,
As they did at the fairway of strength
We stand silent and mournfully bow
At the hill of fraternal graves. / At a dear fraternal grave.

Cannons thunder no more. There’s no cry
From the sea. Waves and gulls are subdued.
The very port that the enemy kept under fire
Has made true the triumphant breakthrough.

We have driven this war to its knees,
Pushed it far to an alien land.
Yet our hearts have been burdened and grieved
With a shadow that none can withstand.

A sea of sorrowful tears won’t dry out.
For the thousandth time we salute,
Raising cups with a bittersweet wine,
Oh unknown sailor – to you…

Many warriors’ names are unknown.
As survivors grow fewer each year.
Every day, every hour, every moment
Misty docks see them off wrapped in dreams.

The city breathes in mist in the morning.
At the bridgeheads of Smaller Land —
Someone’s cap, someone’s old photos,
Ships lined up as if for a raid.

I keep staring at a careless child.
Beams of happiness play in his eyes.
And I pray that a death notifier
Never visits him during his life.

World peace … so simple and clear,
There is nothing as fair as silence.
Our minds have become so experienced
On the roads paved with war and violence.

I don’t know how else to begin,
A genes memory thread doesn’t fail.
And one more gun salute it will give
Everyone who withstood to prevail.

There are dozens, hundreds and hundreds
Of cities, villages, towns and more,
In whose homes a commander or soldier
Never came back from the war.

Lilac blaze glows above the headstone,
Chestnut sparkly leaves dance in the wind.
Nothing’s lost or nothing’s forgotten…
We remember, therefore, live!

In the spring flower roundelay
Lively colors bring comfort and peace!
They are surely right when they say —
Every city in Russia is a hero.

To Paris!

Let the light
From the Moon fill my crystal glass —
I will drink up all nights in full.
Years go by,
Yet the Paris conundrum stays
Still unraveled, too deep to undo.
Stooping over the redhead Seine
Like a symbol of love he stands.
Waters pass
By his eyes where the river bends
While performing her quiet dance.
Hear the cry
Of a saxophone in St. Michel,
Dresses’ rustling and gentle mutter…
Candles shine
Near the end flaring up together.
In half an hour the dawn will come.
Lanterns whirl
No longer on Moulin Rouge,
Still and lorn the Boulevard de Clichy.
Sacre Coeur
Takes a rest with a lonely look,
Nighttime gloss in the Tuileries.
Silver dust
From the stars covers Montparnasse
Penetrating the dusky heavens…
Bottoms up
I drain my tall-tale glass —
I propose a toast to Paris!
Starry night
Softly covers the city. It rests.
Deep in sleep is the Pont Alexandre…
There’s a sign –
From the platform departs an express,
In the window a sunbeam flares.

White Piano

Night has fallen like a veil on the ground,
Throwing stars over the dress of the skies.
World is sleeping, only snowy-white grand
Stands like angel who`ve just opened his eyes.

Lightwinged raw of keys is flowing in dance
With the crystal silver moon overflows.
Hear your voice in all the circling sounds,
And the miracle of our dream returns.

Candles lightened. Their voice tantalize,
And the sadness of the wax leaks away
From the overriding warmth in the eyes,
And the grand the broken love does bewail.

Hands are hovering, like sheer wings of those,
Over octaves that become endless stairs.
In the mirrors silent garden arose —
And two paths in it, two flowers, one pair.

And the wineglass isn`t drained to the dregs,
Shoulders freezing, though covered with a shawl,
While the white grand, like an angel with greys,
From all heart is playing his better role.

And inside the days and dates have entwined,
And the flame of bodies sparkled the soul;
Our evident- the chimney, large-eyed,
Now is needless and has nothing to talk of.

In the window moonlight vows silent dance
To the places we have never belonged.
What we have, and what was given to us,
Grand, as white as snow, again has bemoaned.

Cherchez la femme

You sing with passion in the style of the French
And follow me with soulful regard.
In evening windows, a sleeping garden, so strange,
A disk of moon like lonely soffit on guard.

The rubies left melting in a crystalline glass,
The wine is waiting by us to be downed.
You sing with burring mellow `la` ; while it lasts,
The saxophone repeat like echo those sounds.

The chanderliers throw out ambient light,
Your pale skin whitens through the sheer brand lace.
The evil residence- the pub- blows your mind,
The strong willed lipped becomes the residence of grace.

The clockhands`re climbing to the zenith of night,
They stand as if guarding the borders of time.
You are so very far from saints sorrow-eyed,
And the lonely poet’s fortune, so fine.

The dexterous registers are splitting staccato,
And bill-shaped mouthpiece excitedly weavers.
Cherchez la femme… but how to meet you, I wonder?
It seems to me that through the hundreds of failures.

The rubies are still sparkling in glass,
The melody is flowing so mellow,
I didn`t catch your powerful glance,
And saxophone is your only fellow.

Make step to night through garden fallen asleep,
And stars with love dance in the sky twinkling farm.
And all this half-truth world is keeping on lips:
`Cherchez la femme…`

How it possible?

I`m responsible
for the rains that took fashion
lash the city with splashings,
mopping from all the corners of it unveterable dust.

Mark omissions!
My new mission is
flying with old daring rains
a hundred miles a day —
This is only the way I am happingly going to trust.

Stars have thrown their clothes
in the face of Earth,
and it burns now in fire of sunrise,
all the visions and tales of the moonland taking away.

Feel the call of height,
it`s so many-eyed
and it leads me with this rainy fleeting
to the heart of the sky that is secretly hidden somewhere.

All that ever passed
now I leave in past,
to the silvering hair of the mother Earth`s air
tying ribbon and asking to wait me in splashes of rain.

Freedom facing me —
It`s my destiny,
All the world I`ll embrace with my wing,
but afraid that I`ll never come here as human again.

Era of love

We’re so many
We’re two
I will cover the world with my palm
So I may hear your heart beating,
Just your heart on the whole planet.
I will pray
For you
Kneeling down under silver stars.
God will help us to follow our dream
Flying up through the endless heaven.

With my feet
I touch
The sea,
With my eyes I caress your lips,
To that flight I surrender my soul
I surrender both you and me.
Moonlight beams
Slightly touching the edge of a hill.
But my heart stays unharmed by their glow,
While I wait for the waves to near.

We unite
At the crest
Of joy,
Waters pierce the gloomy silence,
I accept your hands and together
We discover eternal life.
In the ocean,
Breaking down familiar sounds.
Hills are cold. Their faces are grave.
We are on our Milky flight!

We’re so many,
We’re two,
You have blessedly lengthened my term,
Made the cheerless world so lovely,
Now my soul is revived to believe.
On my way
I am so
I’ll be able to finish my verse,
I’ll be finally free to speak up
Of the love, that creates a new era!

I feel that I haven’t yet lived…

The day has exploded with the colors of dawn,
In a blink, wings unfold to the tips!
The world is my equal, my pea in a pod,
But I feel that I haven’t yet lived…

It seems, that inhaling the scent of cool grass
I can’t get enough, so perfect, so fresh!
I see, as light softly caresses my eyes,
O Lord, that you were supremely correct,

When you granted I witness the light of day,
The wintry dew, swept up with my palm,
When blessing ahead my future way,
My long, my barren, my thorny path.

Amidst the rainy and stony lane
My face set as flint, to the blustery night
I tried to remember, dear God, this one thing
That my life should be measured in heaven’s great strides

How simple to step into distance unknown,
As your hands carry love…may I hurry!
In rejecting anxiety and sadness deep sown,
That with curtain unveiled, I might know thee.

O, just to know the riches of heaven,
Forsaking the vain desires of the soul,
And if I may enter your paradise, Eden,
May I first bid my tears cease to roll!

Far be it from me to wrestle your wisdom,
I, but a speck in an ocean of stars.
The older, more learned, the stronger I grow,
The closer I come to the bridge unexplored.

If this is your will, then so it will be,
Life springs eternal, this is your lot.
This union, this link, let in never break free,
I’m created by you, as that’s what you’ve sought

Although but a speck…With a heart and a soul…
The cycle remains, unbroken, unbent
Faithful I will be, to this one simple truth –
In this little heart burns your light with no end.

The day moves away, it floats into space,
Having folded its obstinate wings.
Another one gone, what a pity it passed!
For I feel that I haven’t yet lived…

Life, do not runaway!

The infinity has captured dates —
No chance to outrun, to come again.
And the clock hands cut the wings of day
To the quick, oblivious of pain.
People say that time can cure souls
Leading you away from sheer grief.
Yet, however, when the evening’s close
I wish I were made out of steel.

Stubborn minutes always run ahead,
Guilty without guilt they flow far.
No currency that we’ve invented
Can redeem my life without scarring.
It is impossible to have a draft for living
And a fair copy gets too soon too small
We allow our neighbors to continue
Giving the all-seeing eye its toll.

You will never outrun the curly sun,
It is young and constantly renewing!
It burns up the blind protuberances,
Like a stubborn shadow it pursues you.
Breaking through the barriers of age
Would be delightful! And a torment…
It is like weaving up a colored sail
Making no knots, with a single cord.

Smoldering candles die under the heaven,
Mimicking the stars up high but failing.
For a moment someone resurrects,
Some get to the edge within a second.
Everything is logical, it’s what life is…
There is time to warm up and no more.
That is why my heart hurts in the evening…
Life, do not run away! No sound in respond.

The Heat

It’s hot,
and sun hopped cherry trees scattered
a mat of summer yellowed
The crow
keeps croaking on as usual, and spreading
on its wings verbosity of rumours quick.

The sky
has cracked into sweltering parts,
pray as you might, but there is no
I’d rather
be taken by a storm at its mercy
and spill as rains the gladness of the seasons
on the earth floor!

The miles,
they heal the injures of the soles,
as the road grows rougher day by
appeared someday desired
the one, who gave me no

The people
have cut out array the bridal,
without asking for permission of the two
lone hearts.
They like
to build on silt the sandy castles,
so that there would be born a happy end
to rueful fairy-tale.
And cools
a voice within the space of planets
of a soul ignited, burned by
midday sun!
In the back
every shot is by words, but it’s dry,
and the soul doesn’t speed to resound
with its blood!

I wait,
as salvation, bittersweet tears
so to explode noxious heat
with their chill!
In vain
you thumb through little volumes of prose,
those, that are written by rumour, that’s always
following me.

in the abyss of the eyes afflatus as wonder —
they failed to get by, didn’t manage and hear
and did not save…
In the howling
of rains the descending, I will forget
how struggled the soul, burning in fire
of earth…

unfolds the mysterious lesson,
to behold thaumaturgy – the great power of fire!
With your skin
you will feel it beforehand
that you can’t retrieve awful loss…loss
of me.

Here I used to be …

Music slipped off of broken strings,
Stones of sorrow shattered the sounds…
Hardly my woes are so strong they could dim
A thousand moons that shimmer so proudly.

Time has clipped short the wings of my song.
Lyrics grow weak in the maze of goodbyes.
Yet here I used to be, here I was…
How bittersweet is this torture of mine!

Share of years allotted by time
So inevitable and undeniable.
Beats and pulsates the light of my life,
Passing tangentially, passing me by.

Frail are the lines that picture my path,
Mirroring palms hold its appearance.
Can I prolong revelation a while?
Time is so merciless — time will draw near.

What happened to you my obedient hands?
Keep all your strength in your veinlets and veins!
Lies are enchanting these days. Oh, alas!
And in the face of abyss — even precious.

I cannot see past the edge of dismay.
Wish I could finish the line of the verse.
God sees I braved what was destined to brave,
Warmed by my doubtful faith in endurance.

Music slips off … I shorten my step…
Time calculatingly marks off the borders.
And in its bottomless pupils it beds
An anthem that used to fly free like a bird.

About the author:

Galina Amirova was born on December 11, 1956 in the Salsk, Rostov region.

She has been working at the MediaYoug International Publishing’s House (Rostov-na-Donu) as the head of the Department of Cooperation with Russian Authorities since May 2010.

She has been a member of the Russian Journalists’ Association since 1982.

She is a winner of the Rostov regional Pogodin literary prize and of 20 other literary prizes.

Composers from different countries, such as Russia, the US, Ukraine, Germany, Greece, Israel and other have written more than 50 songs using Galina Amirova’s poems as lyrics.

She is a widow. She has a 29-year-old daughter and an 9-year-old grandson.

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