Sergei Yesenin, poet of the "golden autumn" and tragic fate, addressed women in his poetry as embodiments of life, love, and tenderness, but also as sources of emotional wounds. His letters in verse are confessions, full of contradictions, desperate longing, and hope for redemption. In these works, he bares his soul, painting portraits of his loved ones in which rapture and pain, light and shadow, intertwine. This collection is an attempt to bring together those lines addressed to the women who left a deep mark on the poet's heart, and those that might have been written had his pen continued to engage with the fair sex.<\/p>\n
\nDon't be sad, my dear mother, I wander, I've given myself free rein. But in my soul, as before, I languish, I crown your tender image. Don't blame me for my drunken songs, They are filled with longing for my homeland and dreams. Only to you alone, my soul's desire, will I confess my sorrows.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nLetter to Anna Izryadnova<\/h2>\n
\nYou are like the wind in a rye field, free, light, wild. You are in my heart like a dream, you penetrate my soul unexpectedly. I loved your laughter like the sound of a stream, and your eyes like stars in the night. But fate, the evil sorceress, separated our paths.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nLetter to Zinaida Reich<\/h2>\n
\nYou are like a shadow in my destiny, mysterious, dark, close. In your embrace I find peace, passion, and destruction. I drown in your eyes, like in a pool, deep and dark. And I don\u2019t know what awaits me there, but I\u2019m afraid to be alone.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nLetter to Isadora Duncan<\/h2>\n
\nYou are like a flame, bright and bold, bringing passion and freedom to your dance. I looked at you as if you were a miracle, and quietly languished in my love. But I couldn't hold your gaze, for it held all the pain and longing in the world. And so I left, leaving a trail of loss, in search of oblivion and the lyre.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nLetter to Nadezhda Polilova<\/h2>\n
\nYou are like the rye that whispers in the field, modest, quiet, dear. You found freedom in my heart, and warmed my soul with love. But even you could not contain my restless, free spirit. I left, unable to wait any longer, into a maelstrom of passions, into an abyss of torment.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nLetter to Galina Benislavskaya<\/h2>\n
\nYou are like a song, sad and tender, filled with longing for a love gone. I loved you as before, but I could not find happiness. In your eyes I saw a reflection of my soul, wounded and empty. And I left, leaving only regret, into a world of wanderings, into the night world.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nLetter to a Stranger<\/h2>\n
\nI met you once in a field, among the golden and wicked ears of grain. And in your eyes, as in a dark sea, I saw reflections of mine. You were silent, only smiling quietly, and a star lit up in my soul. But fate, as before, is merciless, and separated us forever.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA letter to the one who is waiting<\/h2>\n
\nDon't wait for me anymore, my dear. I'm a wanderer, free and empty. In my soul, only the wind howls, and my heart is tormented by fate. I won't return; I can't give you happiness, joy, or warmth. I can only sing of you in my songs, and keep you forever in my memory.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA letter to the one who forgot<\/h2>\n
\nYou've forgotten me, I know, And there's no place for me in your heart. But I still remember you, In the silence, in the night, in the remote land. Let another warm you, Let another give you love. And I will wander like a shadow, In search of oblivion and dreams.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA letter to the one who wounded<\/h2>\n
\nYou wounded me, unintentionally, with a caustic word, an icy gaze. But this pain, sharp and lasting, will remain with me forever, like smoke. I loved you, despite everything, but you could not appreciate my love. And so I left, with a broken heart, into a world of wanderings, into a world without shackles.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA letter to the one who inspired me<\/h2>\n
\nYou are my muse, my bright maiden, I find inspiration in you. Your beauty, like a song, is new, and brings comfort to my soul. I write poems about you, my dear, about your eyes, about your lips. And in these poems my soul soars, in search of happiness, in search of miracles.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA letter to the one who was silent<\/h2>\n
\nYou were silent, and I kept waiting for an answer, searching for even a glimmer of warmth in your eyes. But in response there was only silence, like summer, and emptiness fell in my soul. I loved you, your tenderness, your mystery, but you couldn't tell me anything. And so I left, with a broken heart, into a world of wanderings, into a world of no return.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA letter to the one who was a dream<\/h2>\n
\nYou were my dream, distant, unattainable, like a star in the night. I loved you as before, deeply, but fate did not allow us to meet. I wrote poems about you, passionate, and in these poems only your image lived. But you remained only in my fantasies, in a world of dreams, in a world of tender words.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA letter to the one who went nowhere<\/h2>\n
\nYou left for nowhere, without a farewell, Leaving only pain and emptiness in my soul. I searched for you in every memory, But I couldn't find you, I couldn't find you anymore. Where did you go, my dear, To what world, to what land, on what flight? I don't know, but my heart aches, And in your memory your image lives on.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA letter to the one who will always be there<\/h2>\n
\nYou will always be in my heart, like a bright memory, like a quiet dream. And even when I am gone, your image will remain with me. I loved you, I love you, and I will love you, through the years, through time, through the centuries. And I will sing of you in my songs, And keep you forever in my memory.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Sergei Yesenin, the poet of the \u00abgolden autumn\u00bb and tragic fate, addressed women in his poems as the embodiment of life, love and<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[71],"tags":[81],"class_list":["post-1170","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stihi","tag-sborniki-stihov-izvestnyh-avtorov"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1170","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1170"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1170\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":174421,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1170\/revisions\/174421"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1170"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1170"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1170"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}