Thank you, dearest Bliss, for this so beautiful and touching poem.
You put in it feelings of most of us, TC classmates, which we wasn't able to express by ourselves.
Thank you for this and for all your love and care.

You are welcome, my dear friends.Thank you for your warm words.
I love you all!!!

Hello, poetry lovers
It's been a long time...
Thank to my dear friends, Fatih and Celal, I heve opportunity to introduce Turkish speakers to wanderful poem Loneliness by Mikhail Lermontov, on their own language. English translation of this poem is already posted, but I'm posting it again, near to its translation.
Tekrar teşekkürler, arkadaşlar

yalnızlık
bizim için cehennemdir hayatın prangalarını
çekmek, yabancılaşma içinde kötüdür
bütün insanlar mutluluğu paylaşmak ister
hiç kimse kederini paylaşmak istemez

boşluğun kralı olarak yalnızım burada
çok kirli bir acı yaşar kalbimde
ve anlayabiliyorum kader korkusuyla
yıllar geçer bende düşler gibi

ve yine gelir altına bezenmiş olarak
utanılacak ruya,kasvetli olan ve eski
bir tabut görüyorum,siyah ve tek
bekler,neden bekletir dünyayı

orada kederli bir düşÃ¼nce olmayacak
iddia ediyorum orada
çok çok neşeli kutlama olacak ve
ben öldüğümde doğacağım
1830
M. Lermontov

Loneliness

It's Hell for us to draw the fetters
Of life in alienation, stiff.
All people prefer to share gladness,
And nobody - to share grief.

As a king of air, I'm lone here,
The pain lives in my heart, so grim,
And I can see that, to the fear
Of fate, years pass me by like dreams;

And comes again with, touched by gold,
The same dream, gloomy one and old.
I see a coffin, black and sole,
It waits: why to detain the world?

There will be not a sad reflection,
There will be (I am betting on)
Much more gaily celebration
When I am dead, than - born.
1830

Dear Slavica,
Thank you for your efforts and good job.Of course I appreciate Fatih's and Celal's beautiful translation too.
And this is for you. I think it will be interesting for you as it was for me, even I knew the story.

It’s pointless trying to fight against certain habits, but we can tell you how the statue of ‘the guy in the jacket’ came to be on Krasnyi Vorota Square.

PRESENT: The classics, alas, are not at the top of many people’s lists nowadays. Poetry has become an exotic subject for the elite in many cases. It’s not only the unenlightened few who confuse Pushkin with Lermontov, but also so-called ‘with it’ people. The present day cultural attitude could be summarised with a phrase from a popular comedy ‘Gentlemen of Luck’ when one of the characters honours the statue of Lermontov with the title ‘the guy in the jacket’. It’s pointless trying to fight against certain habits, but we can tell you how the statue of ‘the guy in the jacket’ came to be on Krasnyi Vorota Square.

HISTORY: Tsar Nikolai I did not like Lermontov. When word was sent in 1841 that Lermontov had been killed in a dual, the emperor uttered the famous phrase that jarred even upon other members of the royal family: ‘the dog deserved it’. A monument to Lermontov was not erected under a tsarist government, but do not think that this decision was at all biased. It did not happen simply.

In the eighties of the 19th century, which was around 75 years since Lermontov’s birth, plans were discussed to erect a monument to the poet. There were lots of arguments about where the site should be and three options were suggested: in Moscow, where the poet was born; in St. Petersburg, where he spent most of his life; or in Pyatigorsk, near to which the fatal dual took place.

As a result, four statues of Lermontov were made: two in St. Petersburg, one in Pyatigorsk and one more in Penza – the village Tarkhana is in the Penza region where Lermontov spent his childhood with his grandmother. Moscow at that time was overlooked although Lermontov said the following about Moscow in his poem ‘Sashka’:

Moscow! Moscow!
I love you as a son,
As a Russian,
Warmly, ardently,
And tenderly!

In 1942, the 100-year anniversary of his death, a decree was issued to erect a monument. The war, however, interrupted the plans. It was only in 1964 on the 150-year anniversary of his death that the capital was ready to go ahead with the plans once more. The site was decided upon without any problems - Krasnyi Vorota Square (it had one time been called Lermontov Square), not far from his birthplace. Now the actual project had to be decided upon.

The project had commenced in 1941. A series of sketches were done by the famous Soviet sculptor Ivan Dmitriyevich Shadrom – the creator of the world-famous sculpture ‘The Rock – the proletarian’s weapon’.
In 1952 a competition to design a monument to Lermontov was announced and then another competition in 1958. Out of the 48 projects, the jury choose 42, but none of them were considered to be appropriate for the genius poet. They decided to announce a new competition, in which artists would be invited to partake by the Ministry for Culture.

As a result two projects were organised by the sculptors Motovilov and Brodsky, and they were commissioned to continue with their separate projects. The competition continued up to 1961 when new projects also entered into the running. Not one of the projects, however, was deemed to be an acceptable embodiment of Lermontov. After all this, two projects were chosen to continue working – one belonged to Brodsky and the other to Stempkovsky. It seemed that someone who would be asked to finish the project. But – in 1964 it was declared that not one of the new projects was worthy and Brodsky’s was decided upon. The winner was commissioned to complete the statue within one month.

They planned for the opening to take place in the autumn of 1964 on the 150-year anniversary of the poet’s death. But the sculptors were not able to complete it in such a short time and the opening took place in June 1965.
The bronze figure of Lermontov was surrounded by a lattice engraved with images from his works: ‘Demons’ and ‘The Sail’, and engraved with quotes from his poetry. It was finally completed and Moscow had its own statue of Lermontov.

PRESENT: And so it is that the bronze Lermontov, standing with his hands behind his back, looking down at his feet, is called ‘the guy in the jacket’. It is a sad story and one of much suffering that lies behind this statue. It would in fact be worth immortalising the words: ‘I watch our generation with sadness’, on the lattice around the statue. This is indeed a universal and timeless phrase, irrespective of year, century or generation.

Petr Yashkin

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO ALL TURKISH CLASS MOTHERS !

LETTER TO MOTHER

Still around, old dear? How are you keeping?
I too am around. Hello to you!
May that magic twilight ever be streaming
Over your cottage as it used to do.

People write how sad you are, and anxious
For my sake, though you won't tell them so,
And that you in your old-fashioned jacket
Out onto the highroad often go.

That you often see in the blue shadows
Ever one dream, giving you no rest:
Someone in a drunken tavern scuffle
Sticks a bandit knife into my chest.

Don't go eating your heart out with worry,
It's just crazy nonsense and a lie.
I may drink hard, but I promise, mother,
I shall see you first before I die.

I love you as always and I'm yearning
In my thoughts for just one thing alone,
Soon to ease my heartache by returning
To our humble low-roofed country home.

I'll return when decked in white the branches
In our orchard are with spring aglow.
But no longer wake me up at sunrise,
As you used to do eight years ago.

Do not waken dreams no longer precious,
Hope never fulfilled do not excite.
It was my misfortune to experience
Loss and weariness too early in my life.

Don't teach me to pray. Please, mother!
There's no going back, try as you might.
You alone give me support and comfort,
You alone glow with a magic light.

So forget your cares, please. Don't be anxious
And for my sake, dear, don't worry so.
Out onto the road in your old-fashioned
Jacket, please do not so often go.

Sergey Esenin 1924



ПИСЬМО МАТЕРИ

Ты жива еще, моя старушка?
Жив и я. Привет тебе, привет!
Пусть струится над твоей избушкой
Тот вечерний несказанный свет.

Пишут мне, что ты, тая тревогу,
Загрустила шибко обо мне.
Что ты часто ходить на дорогу
В старомодном ветхом шушуне.

И тебе в вечернем синем мраке
Часто видится одно и то ж:
Будто кто-то мне в кабацкой драке
Саданул под сердце финский нож.

Ничего, родная! Успокойся.
Это только тягостная бредь.
Не такой уж горький я пропойца,
Чтоб, тебя не видя, умереть.

Я по-прежнему такой же нежный
И мечтаю только лишь о том,
Чтоб скорее от тоски мятежной
Воротиться в низенький наш дом.

Я вернусь, когда раскинет ветви
По-весеннему наш белый сад.
Только ты меня уж на рассвете
Не буди, как восемь лет назад.

Не буди того, что отмечталось,
Не волнуй того, что не сбылось, -
Слишком раннюю утрату и усталость
Испытать мне в жизни привелось.

И молиться не учи меня. Не надо!
К старому возврата больше нет.
Ты одна мне помощь и отрада,
Ты одна мне несказанный свет.

Так забудь же про свою тревогу,
Не грусти так шибко обо мне.
Не ходи так часто на дорогу
В старомодном ветхом шушуне.

1924