Слободкина Ольга
Exclusive publishing series by Olga Slobodkina-von Bromssen. Part Vii

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  • © Copyright Слободкина Ольга (olga_slobodkina@mail.ru)
  • Размещен: 25/09/2025, изменен: 21/07/2026. 27k. Статистика.
  • Сборник стихов: Поэзия
    •   1. There are feelings...
       You know what these feelings are like -
      they never leave you
       from the moment of their inception
      until...
       untill.. for ever...
      
      They will go with you
       when you leave
      this treacherous world...
      
      And while you're still here...
       they lie down
      - so deep,
       unchanged,
      and no other feelings
       can take their place...
      
      
      June 5, 2013
      
      
       ***
      
      2. Once again, dry leaves are rustling under my feet in the autumnal surf.
      And the warm Sun is lining the last sweet herbs.
      And Heaven seems to have reconciled with the Earth...
      Forgave the insults, the loss...
      Or simply forgot...
      How I wish I could forget...
      Is it worth...?
      
      August 23, 1997
      
      
       ***
      
      3. Faces on buildings.
       Mascarons.
       What else is there to say?
      
       Maybe a lot,
       maybe nothing...
      
       Sometimes
       you feel you don't wanna know
       anything about them...
      
      
       They're so beautiful...
       Isn't that enough...
      
      
      
      
       Jan. 20, 2020
      
      
      4. The Sunset...
      Yes, after all, I was born at Sunset.
      All day long - bustle, and suddenly...
      Quieter... The Spirit's Inaudible Sound
      And the soul straightens in mental stature,
      Closing its circle of prayer.
      
      So the soul goes out -
      "Very gently, painlessly..."
      (as my mother told me)
      Into the world of the troubled Earth,
      "As if it slipped out..."
      To freedom? To captivity?
      Closing its circle -
      So it will go.
      I'm afraid to write, inopportunely predicting
      The Exit into Eternity - my final Flight.
      I dare not say what I know.
      I don't know.
      But I was born at Sunset,
      and soon
      The Sun will set behind the Earth for the night.
      
      
      June 3, 1998
      
      
       ***
      
      5. When I was loved...
       things were just fine -
      the thin Orenburg shawl,
       gossamer, the whitest in the world,
      the light gray flannel coat,
       its folds falling so softly,
      and the lapels laying so delicately on my shoulders...
      
      And now the coat is fitting,
       like plywood sheets on the Snow Woman,
       the shawls keep slipping off my head,
      even in churches.
      
      I tell myself I do not like the shawls...
      
      But that is not the point!
      
      In the miraculous-horrendous world,
       in which we live,
      I am restless...
      
      And only the Egregor
       of Images and Words
       is holding me,
      just as before,
       and welcomes me,
      helping me to forget the bad...
      
      And ever more inspires...
      
      
      December 2, 2025
      
      
       ***
      
      6. Tiran Island
      
       It appears,
       like a mirage in the desert,
      this island...
       and floats toward the horizon.
      
      Tiran Island...
       Now -
      only a dream
       to remember.
      
      I was lucky - I saw
       that aerial flight
      over the sea...
      
      The sea changes its color...
       Azure,
      turquoise -
       aqua tint...
      
      Tiran Island
       is in my memory.
      
      Now,
       no matter what,
      I saw it,
       I know it.
      It's part of my being...
      
      And, besides memory
       and impressions,
      what do we have?
      
      We,
       particles
      in the memory of The Lord...
      
      December 19, 2015
      
      
      
      ***
      
      
      7. One week is left
       and I'll be born
      
      Only one week -
       just wait
      
      I'll show this world
       what I am worth -
      not soon and not too late
      
      
      One week is left
       and I will step
      into this world at once
      
      I'll show this world,
       but not a sword -
      a word, a song, a dance
      
      
      
      
      November 19, 2025
      
      
       ***
      
      
      8. I will leave
      
       Not too early,
       not too late,
       but when God wills.
      
       I will not beg Him
       to extend my term -
       will accept my fate
      
       What's the meaning in this earthly vale of tears...
       All or none at all...?
       So we go on
       as we were launched to be here - in all times -
       as a worm,
       like a warrior in an open field...
       Page makers... we compose the books of our lives.
      
       Life and Death...
       Who will understand...
       Winter will give way to Summer.
       The days will pass through a sieve...
      
       "Your life is just a steam from a dish"...*
       True. Although hard to believe...
       Life is a steam...
       Is it not?
      
       But the soul still longs for a Miracle
       and cherishes the Gifts of God...
      
       2025
      ______________________________________________________________________________________
      *Jacob 4:14. "Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. For you are just a vapor that appears for a little while, and then vanishes away."
      
      
      
      
       ***
      
      9. The lanterns sparkle bright
       On Moscow major streets,
       With people passing by...
       We do not know their ways.
      
       They're almost all in black,[Like in a shadow show]
       It's like a shadow show. [They're almost all in black]
       Alone with their Fates...
       Stern people passing by.
      
       The lanterns sparkle bright.
       The cold is fierce.
      
       And everyone's alone...[Alone in their kind,]
       But in their hearts they hear
       The Angels singing sweet...
       Or maybe not the Angels...
      
       Through the reflection of the lanterns sparkling bright
       People are passing by.
       The cold is fierce.
      
       [Reflections of the lanterns sparkle bright
       People are passing by
       The cold is fierce]
      
      
       January 22, 2026
      
      
       10.
      
       Ah!
       What a snow fall !
       The benches are piled up to the height,
       up to the ears...
       And so is my window - all right!
       Boys are playing in the snow
       laughing to tears.
      
       Am I in Moscow or where?
       The elements don't care...
       I walk with difficulty, weakening, like the swimmers of Rilke...*
       I fell (slipped)... Oh! Oh! Fate won't hesitate to take a dig in you...
       It's so true...
       Metropolis stands still.
      
       Only snowplows are rolling.
       The tram did not come - I walked through the snowdrifts, up and down...
       Almost downhill...
      
       Metropolis stands still.
       On foot, on foot, on foot...
       Hold on, beautiful! Hold on!
       A poetess wanders in obscurity through the snow...
      
       Oh, Frost! Oh!
       Will they appreciate her later...?
       A good question... after all...
      
       January 28, 2026
      
      ___________________________________________________________________ *Allusion to Rilke's SONNETS TO ORPHEUS. Part I. 24:
       "While we, like swimmers, lose strength" (translation into English)
      
      11.
      I love my memories -
       and all about them:
      the world of things
       that served us
      
      my granny's hands,
      which turned
      flour into dough,
      and from the flour dough
      were baking
      a croissant with marmalade
      
      The voices of my family,
      and their
      hidden world
      
      And my hidden world,
      which
      none of them
      could know
      or understand...
      
       February 24, 2026
      
      
       ***
      
      12. Everything slips away -
       into Nowhere
      
       Disappears into the Circle
       of the Invisible
      
       And there aren't enough hands
       to hold it.
      
       Grace or not,
       you rush along the River
       of Time
       Where to?
       Where Time does not exist.
      
       What awaits us there is unknown...
      
       Everything just disappears
       and rushes into Nowhere
       always
       and at this hour.
      
       Amen...
      
       February 18, 2026
      
      
      ***
      
      
      13.
       You will have to leave everything behind,
       vain man, -
       all your things,
       all your petty passions...
      
      
       And the Earth will pass away,*
       "and the heavens will be rolled up like a scroll,"**
       "But the Lord abides forever."***
      
       But if the Universe is Infinity,
       we are only a small part of its Plan...
      
      
       March 2, 2026
      
      
      _______________________________
       * "Heaven and earth will pass away" Matthew 24:35
       ** "All the stars in the sky will be dissolved and the heavens rolled up like a scroll;" Isaiah 34:4
       *** "But the LORD abides forever;" Psalm 9:7
      
      
      14. People die
       not
       when they leave their bodies...,
       but when
       you stop thinking
       about them,
       when you stop talking to them
       in your mind,
       when you stop praying...
      
       Then
       in the world of your memory,
       imagination
       and in your heart
       they end their existence
       and die...
      
      
       Feb. 17, 2026
      
      
      
      15. A clear autumn day.
      Shadows - a transparent design
      on the warm earth.
      Children running.
      Then...
      the cold.
      The cold of pre-winter.
      And loneliness.
      Two rings lost -
      Egypt and Greece.
      Maybe my fingers have grown thin,
      or maybe God punished me.
      God gave - He took.
      There will be other countries,
      other rings,
      other friends.
      
      Whole life is a chain of losses.
      In the end, you lose your life as well...
      i.e., this testing phase is over.
      It's normal,
      as I
      see now.
      
      At the dacha,
      it's cold,
      scary,
      dark at night.
      And - no one.
      
      Just me.
      And two lanterns.
      
      I bought a new lock.
      I tried to bolt
      the summer. But I could not.
      I'll have to come back again -
      once or twice.
      
      And a week ago, I got lost on the lake -
      one mushroom,
      then another...
      And came out the other way
      into a field.
      
      Sheaves of wheat all around.
      I walked halfway across it,
      but the field wasn't the same,
      not mine.
      I returned.
      And the clear path of Heaven
      led me back to the lake.
      
      An hour
      before sunset...
      
      On a cold night -
      in the field,
      in the forest...
      
      Immediately I remembered the girl
      who wrote haiku.
      She froze in the winter...
      Then
      her friends wanted to publish her book.
      I don't know
      if they published
      
      The cold is still ahead.
      Snow.
      Winter.
      
      The main thing is to survive the autumn now.
      
      There will be spring again.
      Other seas. In this world,
      or in THAT ONE...
      
      Wherever we are,
      we will never disappear.
      
      In youth,
      you are so saddened
      by encounters with evil.
      
      In old age,
      you are suddenly amazed
      and touched
      by the friendship with good.
      
      But...
      be that as it may,
      everything,
      everything
      passes...
      through us.
      We ourselves pass through.
      
      But nothing will disappear
      from God's memory.
      
      Deus conservat omnia -
      God preserves everything.
      
       October 2015
      
      ***
      16.The ash tree has already faded...
      (I managed to shoot its bloom...)
      (So quickly...)
      and dropped the withered brushes,
       clusters of
       inflorescence
      on the ground,
       on the roofs and windscreens of cars.
      
      
      A rare abstraction -
      several layers of consciousness:
      the blossoms on the surface,
      the reflection of houses and trees in the windscreen
      and what's inside the car...
      the steering wheel, the seat, et cetera...,
      but very blurry...,
      which is almost good.
      
      Someday these pix...
      will become museum pieces
      and
      priceless...
      
      No one but me will send them to museums.
      
      
      "I must needs
      to play this role alone."
      
      Juliet was right.
      
      All by myself.
      Only myself.
      And alone...
      without procrastinating
      
      Then they will be picked up
      and raised
      to the Olympus of Art...
      
      April 20, 2023
      
      
      P.S. I have a titanic toil ahead of me...
      
      ***
      
      17. The real happiness and wealth
      Is a clear sweet spiritual breath
      
      June 2026
      
      ***
      
      18.Haiku
      
      
      At two in the morning
       the sky is already brightening,
      and the moons shine in their full splendor.
       Late June.
      
      
      Late June 2026
      
      ***
      19.Haiku
      
      
      Spring is in blossom
      But winter is back
      shedding snow
       on the young green leaves
       and florescence
      
      
      May 2, 2026
      
      
      ***
      
      20.
      
      
      Everything slips away -
      into Nowhere
       Disappears into the Circle
       of the Invisible
      
       And there aren't enough hands
       to hold it.
      
       Grace or no Grace,
       you rush along the River
       of Time
       Where to?
       Where Time doesn't exist.
       And whence no one has come back...
      
       What awaits us there is unknown.
      
       Everything just disappears
       and rushes into Nowhere
       for ever
       and at this hour.
       Amen...
      
       February 18, 2026
      
      21.
      
       It's snowing again
       adding to the already high
       snowdrifts in the streets,
       in the ce-
       me-
       te-
       ries
       where all the graves and paths
       are covered by snow to the Skies...
       How do they feel in there,
       our dear,
       our dearest,
       the most loved ones...?
      
       How is the soul connected with the body?
      
       No one understood me in my family -
       some simply couldn't,
       others didn't want to...
      
       But they loved me,
       I hope...
       And so
       did I...
      
       Now they are gone...
       I'm left alone...
      
       I turned to my cousins
       only to find new overtones of misunderstanding...
      
       I'm trying to find support in the Past,
       but it seems to have become ephemeral...
      
       And so are my images -
       of fleeting reflections,
       of no less fleeting shadows...
      
       I catch them
       by the eye of my camera
       making Time freeze...
      
       My images can be forgotten,
       destroyed...
       as all the material world...
      
       And the Invisible One?
      
       Will it welcome us in Eternity?
       Or deny?
      
       Where shall we live?
       They say
       we shall live
       in the houses
       we can imagine...
      
       So...
       I imagine the flats and the house of my childhood
       with my parents,
       my grandparents...
      
       When life was so full
       and reliable...
      
      
       Feb. 11, 2026
      
      
       *** 22. Soon or not soon... I will go to Where people in white robes come from a great sorrow to serve God, serve sincerely and with love... There I will remember sitting by the river in the evening when on the other bank lights lit up and the gold of the paths, like a prayer, reached us across the water... Where the little church shone and there were many other good things... Not only bad ones... Whatever the time - the Middle Ages, ours or another... 2016 or 2017 23. Steering my boat between the waves of words, the islands of stanzas across the sea of poetry - towards Eternity... Steering my boat cut out of the pages of my hand-written book... Who can understand the life of a poet..., but the Winds of the Invisible, blowing my sails - the Benevolent Ones, the Malevolent Ones... I should have been more cautious, prudent not to have caught the Bad Ones... There is no point now... It's all gone and forlorn... I can never go back... However, the Shore of the Country, Whose Name is Unknown, is still out of sight... "I do not feel Him", my mother said two years before her Death... Where is she now? I cannot believe she is gone... She's always been here, on This Shore... This Shore... That Shore... We're sailing... And until we reach the Other Shore we keep the memories of This One... How happy we were running along it as kids, walking along when in love - out of this World... I don't want to finish this poem. I don't know how to finish it... Maybe because there is still time to catch the Right Winds, to steer my boat to the Right Shore? Feb. 11. 2026 *** 24. Half a year has passed... The clouds of incomparable gray tones - over forests growing into the sky... How long does it take them to grow? What happens to a tree when it reaches its maximum height? And what about humans? Physically, we diminish... And spiritually? And creatively? Is there a limit... How much strength we had, and hopes, and a desire for knowledge... And now there's only the river. And above it - clouds of incomparable gray tones, brushing the mighty pines, their treetops, reaching into the Invisible... SUP boards glide along the river, some people are swimming already, not just dipping their toes in the water. This is another world. Out in nature. Today is my first day. I don't regret anything anymore, not even my first love. And I don't want to go back... There's not much time left... I'll atone for my sins, God willing. The rest is the river. The river of life and creativity. P.S. And it will rain. May 21, 2026 to be continued
  • © Copyright Слободкина Ольга (olga_slobodkina@mail.ru)
  • Обновлено: 21/07/2026. 27k. Статистика.
  • Сборник стихов: Поэзия
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