Alcohol is a companion of human history, a source of inspiration for artists and poets, and also the cause of many tragedies. In poetry, it appears in various guises: as solace, as oblivion, as temptation, and as a curse. This page is a collection of poems dedicated to this controversial drink and its impact on the soul and destiny of man. Here you will find reflections on drunken oblivion, the bitterness of a hangover, and the dangers of addiction, written in a variety of poetic styles.<\/p>\n
\nA ruby splashes in the glass, And shadows dance on the wall. Forgotten are sorrows, grief, Only silence and wine for me. The tart taste, like a summer dream, Dispels sadness and emptiness. And the world around is transformed, In the sweet embrace of darkness.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nDrunken Waltz<\/h2>\n
\nIn the dimly lit hall, cigarette smoke, and music flows like a quiet stream. Amber light plays in the glass, and the mind loses its reliable current. The world spins in a drunken, silent waltz, forgotten are grievances, worries, and fear. Only music, wine, and a ghostly voice, in this nightly fairy tale, in maddened hands. And it seems time has frozen in the distance, in the embrace of oblivion, sweet melancholy. But morning will come, and all dreams will perish, leaving only ashes, empty from the hand.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nBitter gleam<\/h2>\n
\nAn empty glass, a cold gaze, And the heart aches with melancholy. Yesterday's celebration is a bitter poison, And in my head there are only mirages. The dawn is joyless and gray, And the world around has lost its color. Only pain and the thorns of regret, And the traces of yesterday's drunkenness.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nTemptation<\/h2>\n
\nThe bottle beckons like a snake, its embrace a sweet captivity. To forget all that torments the days, and dissolve in the silence of change. But the mind knows that beyond sleep, pain and emptiness lurk. And this cup, full of wine, leads to oblivion, where there is no warmth. And yet the hand reaches out again, to the forbidden fruit, to deception. Temptation is hard to resist, when the soul is full of flaws.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nNight confession<\/h2>\n
\nIn the silence of the night, under the splash of rain, the wine opened a secret valve. And the soul was laid bare, without concealing, all that was hidden before. Words flow like bitter poison, about pain, fear, and love. And in this drunken, strange hell, I found the truth that lies within.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nHangover<\/h2>\n
\nMy head is splitting, and my mouth tastes like a bitter lie. Yesterday's celebration is just words, and my heart is cold and silent. The world seems alien and evil, and the sun shines too brightly. And I want to return to that world, where everything seemed such a gift. But time cannot be turned back, and I must live with the consequences. And in this pain, like poison, I must find at least something valuable within myself.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA lonely toast<\/h2>\n
\nTo those who are not with me now, To dreams that have come true. I will raise my lonely glass, In the silent, quiet emptiness. The wine will warm, but will not save, From the sadness that lives in my soul.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nSmoke and wine<\/h2>\n
\nIn clouds of tobacco smoke, And in the glass \u2013 a tart taste. All the world's problems are forgotten, And the mind is immersed in art. In the dim light of cramped rooms, I sought solace in wine. But I only increased the hopelessness, And the loneliness in the silence. And it seems there is no way out, From this vicious circle. Only smoke and wine, like an old secret, And drunken, meaningless torment.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nThe last sip<\/h2>\n
\nOne last sip, and all will be over, The pain and sorrow will be forgotten. But the heart knows that it will return again, And this distance will come again.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nDrunken Moon<\/h2>\n
\nThere's a drunken moon in the sky, Starlight in the glass. And it seems like life is a game, Where there are no rules, no victories. Wine flows through my veins, And my mind loses control. And in this drunken delirium, I see a new role in the world. But the morning will come, and the dream will disappear, And the moon will fade from the sky. And only a bitter groan will remain, And emptiness in my eyes.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nForgotten names<\/h2>\n
\nIn wine I search for names, Those who have departed this life forever. Their voices, like an echo, are heard in the silent darkness of the night. But memory is a fragile, weak bridge, And faces melt in the haze of years. And all that remains is a bitter sip, And regret for the days gone by.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nThe Shadow of Addiction<\/h2>\n
\nThe shadow of addiction creeps, Enveloping soul and mind. And every sip is a new oppression, Trapped in illusions and deception. And you want to break free, to escape, But the power of captivity is too great. And again your hand reaches out again, To the bottle that calls from afar. And in this circle, forever closed, Will and hope are lost. And only a bitter trace remains, And drunken, meaningless clothes.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nMorning light<\/h2>\n
\nThe morning light, like a sharp knife, pierces my head. And in my heart there is pain, and in my thoughts there is a lie, and the call of yesterday's drunkenness.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nWine and stars<\/h2>\n
\nUnder the starry sky, in silence, the wine sparkles in the glass. And it seems that only to me has the secret of this world been revealed. And the stars whisper of love, of eternity and dreams. And in this drunken oblivion, I see the world in different colors. But the morning will come, and the dream will disappear, and the stars will fade from the sky. And only a bitter groan will remain, and emptiness in my eyes.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA farewell glass<\/h2>\n
\nA farewell glass, and it's all over, I'm no longer familiar with wine. May my path be illuminated, And my mind clear as glass.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Alcohol is a companion of human history, a source of inspiration for artists and poets, but also the cause of many tragedies. In poetry, it appears<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[71],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-173353","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stihi"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/173353","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=173353"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/173353\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":174646,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/173353\/revisions\/174646"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=173353"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=173353"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=173353"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}