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Popular Poems on the Meaning of Life
First, life captivates us:
Everything is warm in her, her whole heart is warming
And, like a tempting story,
Our quaint mind cherishes.
Something scares from afar, -
But in this fear, pleasure:
He amuses the imagination
How about a magical adventure
The night story of an old man.
But playful deception will end!
We get used to miracles.
Then - we look at everything lazily,
Then - and life sent us:
Her riddle and denouement
Already long, old, boring,
Like a retold fairy tale
Tired before an hour of sleep.
* * *
My poems written so early
Which I didn’t know that I was a poet
Torn down like spray from a fountain
Like sparks from rockets
Bursting like little devils
In the sanctuary, where the dream and incense,
My poems about youth and death
- Unread poems! -
Dusty shopping
(Where no one took them and doesn’t take them!),
To my poems like precious wines
The turn will come.
* * *
Oh don't rush to where life is brighter and cleaner
Among other worlds;
Slow down here with me, on this ashes
Your earthly hopes!
Abandoned from the dust, not to keep the flight
Into the unknown distance!
Who will be in that country, oh friend, your concern
And who is your sorrow?
In the anxiety of being, in a boundless sway
Without a goal and a trace
Who in life will be to me both joy and breath,
And a bright star?
Merging into one love, we chain endless
Single link
And rise higher in the radiance of eternal truth
We are not destined to apart!
* * *
Life is capricious. We are all in her power.
We grumble and scold life.
... The harder it is, the more dangerous -
All the more desperate we love her.
I walk the hard road
Pits, potholes - just hold on!
But no one came up, by golly,
Nothing more beautiful than life.
* * *
We are all bastards here, harlots,
How sad for us together!
On the walls are flowers and birds.
Languishing in the clouds.
You smoke a black pipe
So strange is the smoke above her.
I put on a tight skirt
To seem even slimmer.
The windows are forever clogged:
What is there, frost or thunderstorm?
On the eyes of a cautious cat
Your eyes are like.
Oh how my heart yearns!
Not waiting for a mortal hour?
And the one who is dancing now
Will certainly be in hell.
* * *
The flower is dried up, unsuccessful,
Forgotten in the book I see;
And now a strange dream
My soul was filled:
Where did it bloom? when? what spring?
And how long did it bloom? and ripped off by whom
Alien, familiar hand?
And put here why?
In memory of a tender date
Or fatal separation
Ile lonely walk
In the silence of the fields, in the shade of the forest?
And is he alive, and is she alive?
And now where is their corner?
Or they have already faded
How is this unknown flower?
* * *
It happens,
What are we making speeches
At the coffin
By written cheat sheet.
Oh, if the dead had seen
How pathetic we are
When in your pocket
We bring our grief.
And so is joy
Divide sometimes
Without taking my eyes
From the page.
Still to learn us
Be ashamed.
Yes, it is a pity,
What is no cheat sheet
For shame.
* * *
We live life in a hurry
And we need so little -
One love, one soul
So as not to betray us.
We are not looking for others, ourselves -
Lost, forgotten ...
And I love, I love you -
Alive and unkilled.
I need you, only you alone
In a whole white light.
I need you - my Wife -
All my life and after death.
I beg you: worry
Me, trouble, doubts.
And disassemble, and save
My poems ...
* * *
He does not know about mud and puddles.
He sees the world only in pink.
He has been friends with dogs since childhood.
And naive, like small children.
Offended - in response to a smile.
And praise - a smile too.
He does not believe that happiness is unsteady,
And the good feels the skin.
He will not offend even the flies.
Sees a miracle in everyday prose.
Nothing that shook hands
Nothing that lives in the cold.
Today will be the same
both tomorrow and the past.
But the fool is completely sinless
Though naive he is crazy.
And he came to our world crazy
To show us, ideal:
Smart is not always right,
Sometimes everyone is wiser than crazy.
* * *
Life is not puzzled
Who, captured by a thunderstorm,
Won't breathe and won't cry
A lonely tear!
We are all joyful and cheerful
We leave the children's shelter,
Believe at noon, Believe in the bucket,
In the quiet of distant evenings ...
But with gullible dreams
The shadow intertwines and - suddenly
The die cast not by us
We are drawn into our strict circle ...
We all sow, entrusting with the heat -
God's whim is your bread
And with silent prayer
Sharpen the sickle, prepare the chain ...
Serene and spacious
Peace in spring silence ...
A lot of plowman threw grains,
A lot will be on the threshing floor!
* * *
I drove past the country stations
By train
On a clear day.
And like someone’s hands in a dance
Birch trees were floating outside the window.
And I didn’t know where I was going:
In sorrow, in hope, in triumph?
I’m in a hurry to meet the summer,
I’m running away from him.
And the train seemed to me
My changeable fate
Where it all concerned me then
And I saw everything brighter.
I also thought that perhaps
This forest is hiding you.
And our train was ahead
My foreboding of miracles.
And so I took it and left
To the birches
In the silence of the fields.
And the train didn’t even hear
My unexpected joy.
* * *
No need to be ashamed of mournful, sweet,
They all taste bitter.
After all, tears are not natural rainfall.
Knows how to cry strong, weak, coward.
From ancient times they were called "living water",
Treated. Sadness and pain were released.
It was even brought back to life.
Only their role is magical.
This medicine is given to us by nature,
Source of amazing price.
To portray emotions is not a fashion,
Feelings expressions are not prohibited.
When we allow ourselves to cry
That express joy, pain, sadness.
There will, of course, be a temporary slush,
The frozen tears of crystal will be forgotten.
The reasons for tears are hard to list,
And if it’s impossible to restrain them,
May the soul help us cleanse
And they can convey our feelings.
* * *
The world rests on good people.
Not on aggression and evil.
And if there is no kindness,
There will be nothing on earth.
The world rests on compassion
And not on the importance of empty.
Here someone gives light to the darkness,
To illuminate life with beauty.
The world rests on mercy
And not for profit and lies.
None of us blows death
And therefore hurry to do good.
Perhaps this is all naive.
But I see once again
Like rains raining over the earth
To wash away accumulated dirt.
And our time needs to be cleaned -
So much shit has accumulated in him -
Violence, lies, enmity and stench,
That soon we’ll all go crazy.
So let us not lose our conscience
And the truth will not fall down ...
The world rests on wise people
How life is held in the sun.
The best poems with meaning
A life! Unexpected joy.
The happiness that fell to me.
Zory evening coolness,
White frost on the stubble.
And war, and severe hunger.
And the taiga is the Siberian forest.
And a prickly, burning cold
Icy granite mountains.
Everything was hard
On the land of your roads.
It was so that she left
And you yourself are from under your feet.
No matter how disturbing
He said to himself: hold on!
It’s impossible otherwise
Because it is life.
I'll take everything that rushes past
On the roads of being ...
It’s a pity that you are unique
My life is wonderful.
* * *
Who is made of stone, who is made of clay, -
And I am silvering and sparkling!
I care about treason, my name is Marina,
I'm mortal sea foam.
Who is made of clay, who is made of flesh -
The coffin and tombstones ...
- In the baptismal font - and in flight
His - constantly broken!
Through every heart, through every net
My willfulness will break through.
Me - do you see these dissolute curls? -
You cannot make salt on earth.
Crushing your granite knees
I am resurrecting with every wave!
Long live the foam - the funny foam -
High sea foam!
* * *
So life has waned,
Like the sun at sunset
And silver pipes
In the cold air they ring.
My life! September is ringing!
Hurrying past times,
More and more clearly
I remember you.
I remember early-early
With bells meadow.
On the breaks of white faces -
The sun is noisy around.
I remember small-small
Without thinking of ourselves ...
To those sources
To those beginnings
You call me trumpet.
* * *
Oh no, I’m not tired of life,
I love to live, I want to live
The soul has not completely cooled
Having lost his youth.
Still stored pleasures
For my curiosity,
For cute dreams of imagination
For the senses. . . . . Total.
* * *
I learned how to live wisely,
Watch the sky and pray to God
And wander long before evening
To tire out unnecessary anxiety.
When the mugs rustle in a ravine
And the bunch of yellow-red mountain ash
I compose funny poems
About life perishable, perishable and beautiful.
I'm coming back. Licking my palm
Fluffy cat purrs sweeter
And a bright fire lights up
On the turret of a lake sawmill.
Only occasionally erupts quiet
The cry of a stork flying to the roof.
And if you knock on my door
I think I won’t even hear.
* * *
Dawn says goodbye to the earth,
Lying on the bottom of the valleys
I look at the forest covered with mist
And the lights of its peaks.
How quietly go out
The rays go out at the end!
With what bliss they bathe in them
Trees lush your crown!
And all the more mysterious, immeasurable
Their shadow is growing, growing like a dream;
How thin at dawn
Their light essay is exalted!
As if sensing a double life
And she is doubly covered
And they feel the native land
And in heaven they ask.
* * *
For a moment elusive,
unforgiving for years
I realized that unloved
I will never again.
What were lashes, were nets
not red calendar dates,
but kindness is not in vain in the world
and compassion is not in vain.
And life is not an exhibition, not a stage,
the worthlessness of generous spending
and if anything is really priceless -
hearts that hurt.
* * *
Oh my life! Night after night. And you soul don't
hear the world.
Tired! why drag your tired porphyry?
What is life? Theater, game of passions, rattling of swords
at crossroads
The flashing of lights, the play of shadows, the play of lights on dim
sparkles.
Why applause jesters? Live on the shore
gloomy.
There, putting shells to the ears, heeded
captive noises -
Penetrate into a distant world: a deaf old man grumbles
angrily,
Rook creaks, rustles the oar, but screams -
from the shores of Kotsita.
* * *
All life sounds like a loud laugh
From the heat of feelings the soul will not fade ...
I love everyone and drink for everyone!
Guilt, by golly, is lacking!
I drink less, but to blame
I will not mix water forever ...
I love one - and for one
Drain the whole cup of life!
* * *
Experience comes
And years go by ...
Looking back on an uneven path
Something there I smile proudly
And I would like to cross out something.
Everything was in life -
Searches and breakdowns ...
And experience keeps repeating to me
What a mother gives to a chick
Legacy wings
But the sky will not fly around him.
Let youth be in a hurry and make mistakes.
Let him think
And breaks ahead ...
I don't take caution
Entering blindly into the world
With a guide.
* * *
The cute pages again opened the fingers;
I am again touched and ready to tremble,
So that the wind or someone else’s hand is not dropped
Withered, one of my led colors.
Oh, how insignificant everything is! From the sacrifice of a whole life
From these fervent sacrifices and deeds of the saints -
Only secret longing in an orphaned soul
Yes, the shadows are pale on the dry petals.
But they remember my remembrance;
Without them, the whole past is one cruel nonsense,
One reproach without them, one torment without them,
And there is no forgiveness, and no reconciliation!
* * *
How often, in life, making mistakes, we lose those we value.
Trying to please strangers, sometimes we run away from our neighbor.
We exalt those who are not worth us, but we betray the most faithful.
Who loves us so much, we offend, and we are waiting for an apology.
* * *
Oh my soul of things!
Oh heart, full of anxiety -
Oh how you beat on the doorstep
Like a double being! ..
So, you are the dweller of two worlds,
Your day is painful and passionate
Your dream is prophetically obscure
Like a revelation of spirits ...
Let the suffering breasts
Fatal passions excite -
The soul is ready, like Mary,
Cling to the feet of Christ forever.
Beautiful poems about life
Life must have broken
And halfway already gone
All that was, with what I dreamed
Connected into one.
But like a glimpse of the dawn
On spring poppies it’s rakit,
Some light, barely noticeable
On the future life lies.
* * *
Oh, I want to live madly:
To perpetuate all things
Impersonal - to humanize,
Unfulfilled - translate!
Let a heavy sleep strangle life
Let me suffocate in this dream
Perhaps the young man is cheerful
In the future he will say about me:
Forgive gloom - is it
The hidden engine of it?
He is all - a child of good and light,
He is all - freedom triumph!
* * *
I'm sorry that life has been lived ...
And this fall evening
Your beauty has risen
Over the late meeting.
I'm sorry I’m not at twenty,
When everything should happen
I found your mark
At its very border.
Frantic our bonfire
Highlighted our souls.
And his flame stretched out
Over the future and past.
I'm sorry that life has been lived
Not close ... But it seemed to me
That maybe life is not that ...
And the one that still remains?
* * *
Whenever all we wanted is
accomplished in life without labor,
courage disappeared from the face of the earth,
which took the city.
And if bitter mistakes
did not burn
hands and minds
counted pure smiles
we are just politeness.
And I am for meeting in life
and failure and thunder
smile in time to notice
to hide a tear in time.
To every corner
disturbing
red
the light is off.
To both in life and in work
fate did not spoil us.
* * *
I do not regret, do not call, do not cry,
Everything will pass like smoke from white apple trees.
Withering gold embraced
I will not be young anymore.
You won’t fight like that now
Heart touched by a chill
And the country of birch chintz
Do not lure barefoot.
Wandering spirit! you're less and less
Stir the flames of the mouth
Oh my lost freshness
A riot of eyes and a flood of feelings!
I have now become stingier in desires,
My life, or did you dream about me?
Like I'm spring echoing early
Galloped on a pink horse.
All of us, all of us in this world are perishable,
Quietly pouring copper from maple leaves ...
Blessed forever
What came to flow and die.
* * *
Learn from them - from oak, from birch.
Around winter. Cruel time!
Tears froze in vain
And cracked, shrinking, bark.
All evil snowstorm and every minute
Angrily tearing the last sheets
And for the heart grabs the fierce cold;
They stand silent; shut up and you!
But believe the spring. Her genius will race
Again warmth and life while breathing.
For clear days, for new revelations
The grieving soul will be ill.
* * *
My life,
you passed, you passed
you were not empty, you didn’t go.
And now you are still
exactly the trace
trace of rocket-glowing years.
But now you are not the way
and the dotted line
along the arc of the speedway.
The plane flew away
but bright
in the blue chalk loop.
But she blurred and swims ...
That's all,
what left the flight.
* * *
On the eternal chariot
Rushing life in a crown of roses
Sparkles of fire shine
Bloodied wheels.
And calm hand
Life spills the gifts of fate
And run after her in a crowd
Lords and slaves.
He who is strong wins
Who has fallen will not rise again.
And the road covers
Human blood.
Drowns out a sob laugh
The death cry is merged with the song.
And reigns supreme over everything
Indifferent, eternal face.
* * *
Blessed is he who is abroad of hereditary fields
He will not step on foot; he will not be carried away by a dream;
Who with a good conscience and with his sweetness
How much fun he falls asleep, so much fun he wakes up;
Who is milk from herds, bread from golden cornfields
And pulls the soft wave from his sheep
And for whom his oak tree burns in the fire in winter,
And a dream brings a cool summer day.
Quietly he spends a century in writings,
Flying fast hours without noticing
And death will come to him with a smile on his lips,
As the best, new days, the prophetess is good.
So life and Delvigu quietly spend.
I will die - and soon everyone will forget about the poet!
What needs? I am blessed, I could find myself
In obscurity, peace and happiness in Lilet!
* * *
If life deceives you
Do not be sad, do not be angry!
On the day of gloom, humble yourself:
Believe, the day of fun will come.
The heart lives in the future;
The real sad:
Everything is instant, everything will pass;
What will pass will be nice.
* * *
I'm sorry that life has been lived ...
And this fall evening
Your beauty has risen
Over the late meeting.
I'm sorry I’m not at twenty,
When everything should happen
I found your mark
At its very border.
Frantic our bonfire
Highlighted our souls.
And his flame stretched out
Over the future and past.
I'm sorry that life has been lived
Not close ... But it seemed to me
That maybe life is not that ...
And the one that still remains?
* * *
What are you howling, night wind?
What are you so crazy about?
What does your strange voice mean
Is it muffled plaintive, then noisy?
Language understandable to the heart
You assert about incomprehensible flour -
And you dig and explode in it
Sometimes violent sounds! ..
ABOUT! Do not sing these terrible songs!
About ancient chaos, dear
How greedy is the night soul world
He listens to the beloved's story!
From the mortal, he tears his chest,
He longs to merge with the infinite! ..
ABOUT! do not wake the storms of those who fell asleep -
Chaos stirs beneath them! ..
Interesting Life Poems
After all, somewhere there is a simple life and light,
Transparent, warm and cheerful ...
There, a girl and a neighbor over the fence
In the evening he speaks and only bees hear
The most tender of all conversations.
And we live solemnly and hard
And honor the rites of our bitter meetings,
When the wind is reckless
Slightly begun interrupted speech.
But we won’t exchange anything magnificent
The granite city of glory and misfortune
Broad rivers of shining ice
Sunless, gloomy gardens
And the voice of the Muse is barely audible.
* * *
I entered a cage instead of a wild beast,
burned his term and cliche with a nail in the hut,
lived by the sea, played roulette,
dined hell knows with whom in tailcoat.
From the height of the glacier, I looked around half the world,
drowned three times, twice there was a reversal.
He threw the country that nurtured me.
From those who forgot me you can make a city.
I wandered in the steppes, remembering the cries of the Hun,
I wore it all over again,
sowed rye, covered with black roofing felt
and did not drink only dry water.
I let the blued pupil of the convoy into my dreams,
ate bread of exile, without leaving crusts.
Allowed his bundles all sounds besides howling;
switched to a whisper. Now I'm forty.
What to tell me about life? Which turned out to be long.
Only with grief do I feel solidarity.
But until my mouth was filled with clay,
only gratitude will be heard from it.
* * *
He climbed his whole life into heroes and in genius,
Unprecedented verses while creating.
I am without a barrel of Diogenes more diogenous:
I found myself without a flashlight.
I know: the souls of all people are bruised,
Not enough bread and wine.
Even I have denied mistakes -
These are the times today.
I know that nothing is due ...
What poems? The verses are just words.
I would have the brush of a great artist:
I would draw cards then.
I look at the world from under the table
Twentieth century - an extraordinary century.
What is more interesting to a historian for a historian,
So sad for a contemporary!
* * *
A young man with a fresh soul performs in the field of life,
Full of flaming thoughts, impudent in proud dreams;
Ready to fight the world and defeat fate and sorrow!
But, silent, await boredom and his time;
They dry the heart, cool his mind and knit a guy.
Love goes out! and one friendship from dawn itself
Until midnight, a companion of the chosen favorites of the sky,
Pure, high minds, ardently loving souls!
* * *
If life deceives you
Do not be sad, do not be angry!
On the day of gloom, humble yourself:
Believe, the day of fun will come.
The heart lives in the future;
The real sad:
Everything is instant, everything will pass;
What will pass will be nice.
* * *
How can a person be comforted
Which carry to the grave pit? ..
He does not know, does not see from under the eyelids,
What is surrounded by beloved friends.
When in the end I die
I want not a second to hesitate
All my friends flocked to me -
From the service, from the hospital, from Pitsunda.
And make random magnesium blitz
He brought me back for a moment from darkness to life
And flashed with a dozen pretty faces,
Which I would like to collect on trisen.
Let the joy and not very great,
But leaving the last road
I will still know for sure
That I did not survive them, thank God ...
* * *
Oh don’t fly like that, life, slowed down a little.
Others live unhurried and detailed.
And I live - bridges, train stations, hippodromes.
Missing so that only a whistle in the ears
Oh don’t fly like that, I’ve been many years old.
Let me have a smoke, though with that boozer.
Not for me, so even for him, poor thing, sympathize.
After all, he, come on, and then no smoke.
Oh don’t fly like that, a trifle is important to me.
Here is the city, here is the theater. Let me read the poster.
And may I never see the play,
But I will know that there was such a performance
Oh don’t fly like that, I’m pockmarked by the winds.
I need to remember this world properly.
And if you're lucky, then even fill out,
At least someone’s eyes, at least somehow by themselves.
Oh don’t fly like that, for a moment, at least, hold on.
Better you cripple me, torture me, and torture me.
Let it be everything - prison, illness, accident.
I’ll endure everything, but don’t fly like that, life.
* * *
Life taught me itself.
She told me,-
When the armor was on fire
And I burned in the fire -
Hold on, she told me
And believe in your star
I'm the only one on earth
And I will not fail.
Hold on, she said, for me.
And throwing back the hatch himself
I escaped from the darkness of fire -
And again crawled to friends.
* * *
All important phrases should be quiet,
All photos with relatives are always blurry.
The strangest people are always great
And the reasons for happiness are always weighty.
The most honest thing you hear in the kitchen at night
After all, if it’s not about the feelings,
And if you cry, howl like a wolf,
To a dreary echo in the half-district.
Favorite songs - all in a hoarse voice,
All your favorite poems are sad.
All arrogant people are always jerks,
And all the close people are always not local.
All important meetings are always random.
The most faithful subjects are traitors,
Circus clowns are all sad
And stubborn skeptics are all dreamers.
If the house is cozy - not a castle for sure,
And the apartment is old in Odessa.
If you contact anyone - forever, firmly.
It may not be all right now, but you hope.
Yes, it’s different now, but believe: we will come true,
If we change, then all my life in a new way.
What is most important will not be forgotten
Brilliant thoughts are always delusional.
Who crossed out the unnecessary, those free,
You need to let go with whom you are too different.
After all, if the mood is not New Year's,
So, for sure, you're not celebrating with those.
* * *
Sad ... Heartache
The heart is tormented and torn
Time boring sounds
They don’t give me a sigh.
Lie down and a bitter thought
It’s not going crazy ...
My head is spinning with noise.
How can I be ... and myself
My soul is languishing.
There is no comfort in anyone.
Walking barely breathing.
Gloomy and wild around.
Share! Why are you given!
Nowhere to bow my head
Life is both bitter and poor
It’s hard to live without happiness.
* * *
Flying years ... and very fleeting,
Quickly leave - not to catch up.
We understand - our life is not eternal,
To be in time to do everything - not to be late.
Do not be late to decorate life with light
His soul and his heart.
Help someone with the right advice.
And do not offend anyone with a word.
Not be late would give a smile
Warmth of soul, hope, kindness.
To fix a random error,
Fulfill the cherished dream.
Do not be late to turn to God
And learn to believe and forgive.
Do not be late to share the happiness
Do not be late to become a man.
* * *
Youth passes quickly, steals happy days.
What is assigned by fate - will surely happen:
or the best thing in the window is knocking,
whether the most vain will fall into the arms.
So do not stock up out of love and kindness
and about the coming rainy day do not accumulate mercy:
your bitter zeal will be lost for nothing
early wrinkles from vain vanity will fall.
It is a pity that youth flashed, it is a pity that old age is short.
Everything is now in full view: forehead in sweat, soul in bruises ...
But then there will be no more riddles, no mistakes -
only smooth road to the last call.
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