Love lyrics are the basis of the work of many Russian poets. And this is not surprising, because love itself is multifaceted. It can give joy and pleasure, but at the same time, it often makes you suffer. The duality of love is a riddle that sooner or later every person has to solve. At the same time, poetic natures strive to tell about their feelings not only to the subject of their hobbies, but also often trust them on paper, creating poems of amazing beauty, reverent and sublime.

10th place. The anticipation of love can be painful and filled with sadness. However, most often that short period of time when a person does not yet realize that he is already in love is filled with confusion and anxiety. In his poem “Premonition of love is more terrible” Konstantin Simonov notes that waiting for love is like the calm before the storm or a short respite before the attack, when feelings and thoughts gallop, and the soul is literally torn to pieces.

“Premonition of love is more terrible” K. Simonov

The premonition of love is worse
Love itself. Love is like a fight
You got along with her eye to eye.
There is no need to wait, she is with you.

The premonition of love is like a storm,
My hands are already a little damp,
But there is still silence, and sounds
The piano can be heard from behind the curtains.

And to hell with the barometer
Everything is flying down, the pressure is flying,
And in fear of doomsday
It's too late to hug the shores.

No, worse. It's like a trench
You are sitting, waiting for the whistle to attack,
And there, half a mile away, there’s a sign
He is also waiting for a bullet in the forehead...

9th place. However, you still need to overcome obstacles and tell your chosen one or chosen one about your feelings, which for many people is a real test. After all, passions are already raging, but there is still not enough courage to take the first step. As a result, poems like the one he wrote are born Alexander Pushkin. His "Confession" is a mixture of admiration and hope, joy and sadness, jealousy and despair. And hope that the feelings are mutual.

“Confession” A. Pushkin

I love you, even though I'm mad,
Although this is labor and shame in vain,
And in this unfortunate stupidity
At your feet I confess!
It doesn’t suit me and is beyond my years...
It's time, it's time for me to be smarter!
But I recognize it by all the signs
The disease of love in my soul:
I'm bored without you - I yawn;
I feel sad in your presence - I endure;
And, I have no courage, I want to say,
My angel, how I love you!
When I hear from the living room
Your light step, or dresses sum,
Or a virgin, innocent voice,
I suddenly lose all my mind.
You smile - it gives me joy;
You turn away - I'm sad;
For a day of torment - a reward
I want your pale hand.
When you're diligent about the hoop
You sit, leaning casually,
Eyes and curls drooping, -
I am moved, silently, tenderly
I admire you like a child!..
Should I tell you my misfortune,
My jealous sadness
When to walk, sometimes in bad weather,
Are you going far away?
And your tears alone,
And speeches in the corner together,
And travel to Opochka,
And piano in the evening?..
Alina! have pity on me.
I don't dare demand love.
Perhaps for my sins,
My angel, I'm not worth love!
But pretend! This look
Everything can be expressed so wonderfully!
Ah, it’s not difficult to deceive me!…
I'm happy to be deceived myself!

8th place. However, love does not exist without quarrels, which can break out over trifles. But if the feelings are strong enough, then the lovers find the strength to forgive each other for mutual insults and reconcile. The feelings that people experience at the same time were very accurately and vividly described in his poem “You and I are stupid people” by poet Nikolai Nekrasov. In his opinion, after a quarrel, love flares up with renewed vigor, giving joy, tenderness and spiritual cleansing.

“You and I are stupid people” N. Nekrasov

You and I are stupid people:
In just a minute, the flash is ready!
Relief for a troubled chest
An unreasonable, harsh word.

Speak up when you're angry
Everything that excites and torments the soul!
Let us, my friend, be openly angry:
The world is easier and more likely to get boring.

If prose in love is inevitable,
So let's take a share of happiness from her:
After a quarrel, so full, so tender
Return of love and participation...

7th place. The opponent of quarrels, in turn, is Boris Pasternak. In the poem “Loving others is a heavy cross” he claims that love makes a person more sublime and sensitive. And to cleanse the soul it is not at all necessary to reward each other with mutual reproaches, and then seek consolation and ask for forgiveness. You can easily do without quarrels, and any person who truly loves can do this.

“Loving others is a heavy cross” B. Pasternak

Loving others is a heavy cross,
And you are beautiful without gyrations,
And your beauty is a secret
It is tantamount to the solution to life.

In spring the rustling of dreams is heard
And the rustle of news and truths.
You come from a family of such fundamentals.
Your meaning, like air, is selfless.

It's easy to wake up and see clearly,
Shake verbal trash out of the heart
And live without getting clogged in the future.
All this is not a big trick.

6th place. No one knows at what exact moment a meeting will take place, which can subsequently radically change a person’s life. Love sometimes flares up completely suddenly, and Alexander Blok tried to capture this amazing moment in his poem “Stranger.” However, he preferred to keep his feelings for himself, enjoying them like tart expensive wine. After all, love without reciprocity is not always tinged with sadness. It can give no less joy than communicating with a loved one.

"Stranger" A. Blok

In the evenings above the restaurants
The hot air is wild and deaf,
And rules with drunken shouts
Spring and pernicious spirit.

Far above the dust of the alley,
Above the boredom of country dachas,
The bakery's pretzel is slightly golden,
And a child's cry is heard.

And every evening, behind the barriers,
Breaking the pots,
Walking with the ladies among the ditches
Tested wits.

Oarlocks creak over the lake
And a woman's squeal is heard,
And in the sky, accustomed to everything
The disk is bent senselessly.

And every evening my only friend
Reflected in my glass
And tart and mysterious moisture
Like me, humbled and stunned.

And next to the neighboring tables
Sleepy lackeys hang around,
And drunkards with rabbit eyes
“In vino veritas!” they scream.

And every evening, at the appointed hour
(Or am I just dreaming?),
The girl's figure, captured by silks,
A window moves through a foggy window.

And slowly, walking between the drunken,
Always without companions, alone
Breathing spirits and mists,
She sits by the window.

And they breathe ancient beliefs
Her elastic silks
And a hat with mourning feathers,
And in the rings there is a narrow hand.

And chained by a strange intimacy,
I look behind the dark veil,
And I see the enchanted shore
And the enchanted distance.

Silent secrets have been entrusted to me,
Someone's sun was handed to me,
And all the souls of my bend
Tart wine pierced.

And bowed ostrich feathers
My brain is swinging,
And blue bottomless eyes
They bloom on the far shore.

There's a treasure in my soul
And the key is entrusted only to me!
You're right, drunken monster!
I know: the truth is in the wine.

5th place. However, the true ally of this bright and very strong feeling is passion, which overwhelms a person, plunging him into a whirlpool of events and actions for which he sometimes does not find an explanation, and does not want to do so. I tried to reflect this all-consuming feeling in my poem “I love you more than the sea, and the sky, and singing...” Konstantin Balmont, admitting that passion flares up instantly, and only then is it replaced by true love, full of tenderness and romance.

“I love you more than the sea, and the sky, and singing...” K. Balmont

I love you more than the Sea, and the Sky, and the Singing,
I love you longer than the days I have been given on earth.
You alone burn for me like a star in the silence of the distance,
You are a ship that does not sink in dreams, or in waves, or in darkness.

I fell in love with you unexpectedly, immediately, accidentally,
I saw you - like a blind man suddenly widens his eyes
And, having regained his sight, he will be amazed that in the world sculpture is welded together,
That turquoise poured down excessively into the emerald.

I remember. Having opened the book, you rustled the pages slightly.
I asked: “Is it good that ice is refracted in the soul?”
You flashed your eyes towards me, instantly seeing the distance.
And I love - and love - about love - for my beloved - he sings.

4th place. Another feeling that is a constant companion of love is jealousy. Few lovers can avoid this bitter fate, at first tormented by doubts about reciprocal feelings, and later by the fear of losing their loved one forever. And often the most ardent and passionate love, poisoned by jealousy, develops into all-consuming hatred. An illustration of such relationships can be “The Ballad of Hate and Love” by Eduard Asadov, in which banal betrayal destroys not only love, but also serves as an incentive to survive, filling the heart with a thirst for revenge. Thus, love and hatred perfectly complement each other and can coexist in the heart of almost any person who is not able to suppress one of these feelings and prefers his life to consist of a series of joys and disappointments.

“Ballad of Hatred and Love” by E. Asadov

The blizzard roars like a gray-haired giant,
For the second day without calming down,
Roars like five hundred airplane turbines,
And there is no end to it, damned!

Dancing with a huge white fire,
Turns off the engines and turns off the headlights.
The snowy airfield is jammed,
Service buildings and hangars.

There is dim light in the smoky room,
The radio operator has not slept for two days.
He catches, he listens to the crackling and whistling,
Everyone is waiting tensely: is he alive or not?

The radio operator nods: “For now, yes.”
But the pain does not allow him to straighten up.
And he also jokes: “Like, here’s the trouble
My left plane is going nowhere!
Most likely a collarbone fracture..."

Somewhere there is a storm, no fire, no star
Above the scene of the plane crash.
Only snow covers up the traces of debris
Yes, a freezing pilot.

They search for tractors day and night,
Yes, but in vain. It's a shame to the point of tears.
Is it possible to find it here, is it possible to help?
You can't see your hand half a meter from the headlights?

And he understands, but he doesn’t wait,
Lying in a hollow that will become a coffin.
Even if the tractor comes,
It will still pass in two steps
And he won’t notice him under the snowdrift.

Now any operation is in vain.
And yet life can still be heard.
You can hear his walkie-talkie
By some miracle, she was saved.

I would like to get up, but the pain burns my side,
The boots are full of warm blood,
As it cools down, it freezes into ice,
Snow gets into your nose and mouth.

What's interrupted? It is impossible to understand.
But just don’t move, don’t step!
So, apparently, your journey is over!
And somewhere there is a son, a wife, friends...

Somewhere there is a room, light, warmth...
Don't talk about it! It's getting dark in my eyes...
There was probably a meter of snow covering it.
The body becomes sleepy...

And in the headset the words sound:
- Hello! Can you hear? Hold on, buddy -
My head is spinning...
- Hello! Take heart! They will find you!..

Take heart? What is he, a boy or a coward?!
What terrible alterations he has been in.
- Thank you... I understand... I’m holding on for now! —
And he adds to himself: “I’m afraid
That everything will happen, it seems too late..."

Totally cast iron head.
The radio's batteries are running low.
They will last for another hour or two.
Your arms are like logs... your back is going numb...

- Hello! - This seems to be the general. -
Hold on, dear, they will find you, dig you up... -
It’s strange: the words ring like crystal,
They beat and knock like metal on armor,
And when the brain has cooled down, they almost never fly...

To suddenly become the happiest on earth,
How little is probably needed:
Having completely frozen, find yourself warm,
Where kind word yes there is tea on the table,
A sip of alcohol and a puff of smoke...

Again there is silence in the headset.
Then, through the blizzard howl:
- Hello! Your wife is in the wheelhouse here!
Now you will hear it. Attention!

For a minute the hum of a tight wave,
Some rustles, crackles, squeaks,
And suddenly the distant voice of his wife,
Painfully familiar, terribly close!

- I don’t know what to do and what to say.
Darling, you know very well yourself,
What if you’re completely frozen,
We must endure, resist!

Good, bright, dear!
Well, how can I explain to her in the end?
That he didn’t die here on purpose,
That the pain prevents you from even breathing faintly
And we must face the truth.

- Listen! Forecasters responded:
The storm will end in a day.
Will you hold out? Yes?
- Unfortunately no…
- Why not? You're out of your mind!

Alas, the words sound increasingly muffled.
The denouement, here it is - no matter how hard it is.
Only one head still lives,
And the body is a cold piece of wood.

Not a sound. Silence. She's probably crying.
How difficult it is to send your last greetings!
And suddenly: - If so, I have to say! —
The voice is sharp, unrecognizable.
Strange. What could this mean?

- Believe me, I’m sad to tell you.
Just yesterday I would have hidden it out of fear.
But since you said that you won't live long enough,
It’s better not to reproach yourself afterward,
Let me tell you briefly everything that happened.

Know that I'm a crappy wife
And I'm worth every bad word.
I haven't been faithful to you for a year now
And now I’ve been in love with someone else for a year now!

Oh, how I suffered when I met the flames
Your hot oriental eyes. —
He listened silently to her story,
I listened, maybe for the last time,
Clutching a dry blade of grass between his teeth.

- So for a whole year I lied, hid,
But this is out of fear, not out of malice.
- Tell me the name!..-
She paused
Then, as if she had struck her, she said her name,
I named him my best friend!

He simply wouldn’t dare, couldn’t, just like me,
Hold on, meeting your eyes.
Don't be afraid for your son. He's coming with us.
Now everything is all over again: life and family.

Sorry. These words are not timely.
But there will be no other time. —
He listens silently. My head is burning...
And it’s as if a hammer is knocking on the crown of your head...

- What a pity that you can’t help in any way!
Fate mixed up all the paths.
Goodbye! Don't be angry and forgive if you can!
Forgive me for my meanness and joy!

Has it been six months or half an hour?
The batteries must have run out.
Farther and quieter the noises... voices...
Only the heart beats stronger and stronger!

It rumbles and hits your temples!
It blazes with fire and poison.
It's torn to pieces!
What is more in him: rage or melancholy?
It’s too late to weigh, and there’s no need to!

Resentment fills the blood like a wave.
There is a complete fog before my eyes.
Where is friendship in the world and where is love?
They are not there! And the wind is like an echo again:
They are not there! All meanness and all deception!

He is destined to die in the snow,
Like a dog, stiffened by the moans of a blizzard,
So that two traitors there in the south
Opening the bottle with a laugh at your leisure,
Could a wake be held for him?!

They'll completely bully the kid
And they will persevere until the end,
To drive another's name into his head
And take my father's name out of my memory!

And yet bright faith is given
The little soul of a three-year-old boy.
The son listens to the drone of planes and waits.
And he’s freezing, but he won’t come!

The heart is thundering, knocking on the temples,
Cocked like the hammer of a revolver.
From tenderness, rage and melancholy
It is torn to pieces.
But it’s still too early to give up, too early!

Oh, strength! Where can I get you, where?
But here it’s not life at stake, but honor!
Miracle? Do you need a miracle, you say?
So let it be! Consider it a miracle!

We must rise at any cost
And with all my being, rushing forward,
Take your chest off the frozen ground,
Like a plane that doesn't want to give up
And after being shot down, he takes off again!

The pain comes such that it seems
You'll fall back dead, face down!
And yet he gets up, wheezing.
A miracle, as you see, is happening!
However, about the miracle later, later...

The storm throws icy salt,
But the body burns like a hot summer,
My heart is pounding somewhere in my throat,
Crimson rage and black pain!

Far away through the wild carousel
The boy's eyes are waiting,
They are big, in the middle of a snowstorm,
They guide him like a compass!

- Will not work! It's not true, I won't get lost! —
He's alive. He's moving, crawling!
Gets up, sways as he goes,
He falls again and gets up again...

By noon the storm died down and gave up.
It fell and suddenly fell apart.
He fell as if cut off on the spot,
Releasing the sun from the white mouth.

He passed, in anticipation of the imminent spring,
Leaving after overnight surgery
There are wisps of gray hair on the stunted bushes,
Like white flags of surrender.

There's a helicopter going on a low-level plane,
Breaking the silence of silence.
Sixth spread, seventh spread,
He is looking... looking... and behold, and behold -
A dark dot in the midst of whiteness!

Quicker! The roar shook the earth.
Quicker! Well, what is it: a beast? Human?
The point swayed and rose
And collapsed again into the deep snow...

Getting closer, getting lower... Enough! Stop!
The cars hum smoothly and smoothly.
And the first one without a ladder, straight into a snowdrift
A woman rushed out of the cabin!

She fell to her husband: “You’re alive, you’re alive!”
I knew... Everything would be like this, not otherwise!..-
And, carefully clasping your neck,
She whispered something, laughing and crying.

Trembling, she kissed, as if half asleep,
Frozen hands, face and lips.
And he barely audible, with difficulty, through clenched teeth:
- Don’t you dare... you yourself told me...

- Shut up! No need! All nonsense, all nonsense!
By what standard did you measure me?
How could you believe?! But no,
What a blessing that you believed!

I knew, I knew your character!
Everything was collapsing, dying... even a howl, even a roar!
And I needed a chance, the last one, any chance!
And hatred can sometimes burn
Even stronger than love!

And so, I say, but I myself am shaking,
I'm playing some kind of scoundrel.
And I'm still afraid that I'm going to fall apart now,
I’ll shout something, burst into tears,
Unable to stand it to the end!

Forgive me for the bitterness, my beloved!
All my life for one, for one look from you,
Yes, like a fool, I will follow you,
To hell with it! Even to hell! Even to hell!

And her eyes were like this,
Eyes that loved and yearned,
They were shining with such light now,
That he looked at them and understood everything!

And, half frozen, half alive,
He suddenly became the happiest person on the planet.
Hatred, no matter how strong it is at times,
Not the best strong thing in the world!

3rd place. It's no secret that over time, even the most ardent feelings dull, and love turns into an endless routine. Anticipating the development of relationships in this way and realizing that only a few happy couples manage to avoid separation, Nikolai Klyuev wrote the poem “Love began in the summer”. In it, he tried to answer the question of why people who just yesterday admired each other so much are today full of indifference and even some contempt for both themselves and their former lovers. But you cannot command feelings, and you have to put up with this, even if at the initial stage of development of the relationship it seems to both lovers that their union is eternal. In life, everything is much more banal and prosaic. Rarely does anyone manage to revive faded feelings. And more often than not, a romance that ends in separation over time causes only slight sadness in its characters.

“Love began in the summer” N. Klyuev

Love began in the summer
The end is in autumn September.
You came up to me with greetings
In a simple girl's outfit.

Handed over a red egg
As a symbol of blood and love:
Don't rush north, little bird,
Wait for spring in the south!

The woods turn smoky blue,
Wary and dumb
Behind the patterned curtains
The melting winter is not visible.

But the heart senses: there are fogs,
The movement of the forests is vague,
Inevitable deceptions
Lilac-gray evenings.

Oh, don't fly into the fogs like a bird!
The years will pass into gray darkness -
You will be a beggar nun
Stand on the porch in the corner.

And maybe I'll pass by
Just as poor and thin...
Oh give me cherub wings
Flying invisibly behind you!

I can’t pass you by with greetings,
And don’t repent later...
Love began in the summer
The end is in autumn September.

2nd place. But sometimes the image of a once close and beloved person is simply erased from the heart, thrown into the background of memory, like an unnecessary thing, and nothing can be done about it. I had to go through a similar situation Ivan Bunin, who in the poem “We met by chance, on the corner...” warns all lovers that sooner or later they will be forgotten. And this is a kind of payment for love, which is inevitable unless people can learn to accept their chosen ones as they are, forgiving them for their imperfections.

“We met by chance, on the corner...” I. Bunin

We met by chance on the corner.
I walked quickly and suddenly, like lightning,
Cut through the evening darkness
Through black radiant eyelashes.

She was wearing crepe, a transparent light gas
The spring wind blew for a moment,
But on the face and in the bright shine of the eyes
I caught the former excitement.

And she nodded to me affectionately,
She tilted her face slightly away from the wind
And disappeared around the corner... It was spring...
She forgave me and forgot.

1 place. An example of such all-consuming love, which is devoid of conventions and therefore close to the ideal, can be found in Osip Mandelstam’s poem “I’m sorry that it’s winter now...”. Love is, first of all, a huge amount of work to maintain a feeling that can fade away at any moment. And - the awareness that it consists of various little things, the value of which people realize only when they lose them.

“I’m sorry that it’s winter now...” O. Mandelstam

I'm sorry it's winter now
And you can’t hear mosquitoes in the house,
But you reminded me yourself
About frivolous straw.

Dragonflies fly in the blue,
And fashion swirls like a swallow;
Basket on the head
Or a bombastic ode?

I don't dare to advise
And excuses are useless
But whipped cream tastes forever
And the smell of orange peel.

You're interpreting everything at random
This doesn't make it any worse
What to do: the most gentle mind
Everything fits outside.

And you're trying to yolk
Beat with an angry spoon,
He turned white, he was exhausted.
And yet a little more...

And, really, it’s not your fault, -
Why grades and reverse?
You were created on purpose
For a comedic altercation.

Everything about you teases, everything sings,
Like an Italian roulade.
And a little cherry mouth
Sukhoi asks for grapes.

So don't try to be smarter
Everything about you is a whim, every minute,
And the shadow of your cap -
Venetian bauta.

Asadov Eduard Arkadevich

If love leaves, what is the solution?

If love leaves, what is the solution?
You can resort to arguments, argue and convince,
You can accept requests and even humiliation,
You can threaten retribution, trying to intimidate.

You can remember the past, every bright little thing,
And, repeating with pain how bitterly the years will pass in separation,
To sway for a while, perhaps to arouse pity
And hold it for a while. For a while - not forever.

Or you can, without even betraying fear and pain with a glance,
Say: - I love. Think about it. Don't ruin your joy. -
And if he refuses, without flinching, accept it as it should,
Windows and doors - wide open! -I do not hold. Goodbye!

Of course, it is terribly difficult to hold firm while suffering.
And yet, so as not to despise myself later,
If love leaves, even howl, but remain proud.
Live and be a human being, and don’t crawl like a snake!

Do we love each other or not?

Do we love each other or not?
It seems: what doubts are there?
Just why, looking for a solution,
Should we dive either at midnight or at dawn?

If only we knew the most important postulate:
Feelings, no matter how bad, no matter how brilliant,
Warm or fiercely burning,
It doesn’t matter: they are built and created.

Feelings can be inspired by stars,
If they are preserved and not tyrannized.
And, on the contrary: it is bitter to ruin,
If you hurt in any way.

Can be found and opened
Everything, literally everything that brings us together.
And, on the contrary: if you don’t trust,
You can pick at sores,
Precisely everything that divides.

Now we have smiles, now we have torment,
That reproach is a chilling soul,
That merging of lips, and hands, and souls,
That is enmity almost to the point of adoration.

That bliss intoxicates us,
Then we mercilessly gnaw at hearts,
Showering jealousy phrases,
But not for a day, not for an hour
We still can’t separate.

Who can help me unravel the secret:
Do we love each other or not?

House built on sand

I blush when I look at her,
Admiring the vein on the temple,
But our heartfelt friendship with her
A house built on sand.

But somehow I was very surprised,
After reading on the calendar sheet
“It’s just especially durable
A house built on sand."

And I remembered: she gives her hand like that,
He wanders around with me, no one else.
Maybe it really is a durable thing
A house built on sand?

Prickly snow falls from the branches...
Maybe there really is an end to sadness
And it will shine with such a wonderful light
A house built on sand!

Yesenin Sergey Alexandrovich

I remember, my love, I remember...

I remember, darling, I remember
The shine of your hair...
It’s not happy and it’s not easy for me
I had to leave you.

I remember autumn nights
Birch rustle of shadows...
Even if the days were shorter then,
The moon shone longer for us.

I remember you told me:
“Blue years will pass,
And you will forget, my dear,
With the other one forever.”

Today the linden blossoms
I reminded my feelings again,
How tenderly then I poured
Flowers on a curly strand.

And the heart, without preparing to cool down
And sadly loving another,
Like a favorite story
On the other hand, he remembers you.

Life is a deception with enchanting melancholy...

Life is a deception with enchanting melancholy,
That's why she's so strong
That with your rough hand
Fatal writes letters.

I always, when I close my eyes,
I say: “Just disturb your heart,
Life is a deception, but sometimes it
Lies decorate with joys.

Turn your face to the gray sky,
By the moon, guessing about fate,
Calm down, mortal, and don't demand
The truth that you don’t need.”

Good in the bird cherry blizzard
To think that this life is a path
Let your easy friends deceive you,
Let easy friends change.

Let them caress me with a gentle word,
Let the evil tongue be sharper than a razor, -
I have been living for a long time ready for anything,
I got used to everything mercilessly.

These heights chill my soul,
There is no heat from star fire.
Those whom I loved renounced
Who I lived - they forgot about me.

But still, oppressed and persecuted,
I, looking at the dawn with a smile,
On earth, close and beloved to me,
I thank this life for everything.

Oh, I believe, I believe, there is happiness...

Oh, I believe, I believe, there is happiness!
The sun hasn't gone out yet.
Dawn with a red prayer book
Prophesies good news.
Oh, I believe, I believe, there is happiness.

Ring, ring, golden Rus',
Worry, restless wind!
Blessed is he who celebrates with joy
Your shepherd's sadness.
Ring, ring, golden Rus'.

I love the murmur of wild waters
And on the wave of the star shine.
Blessed suffering
Blessing people.
I love the murmur of wild waters.

Tsvetaeva Marina Ivanovna

To be tender, furious and noisy...

To be tender, frantic and noisy,
- So eager to live! -
Charming and smart, -
Be lovely!

More tender than everyone who is and was,
Don't know the guilt...
- About the indignation that is in the grave
We are all equal!

Become something that no one likes
- Oh, become like ice! -
Without knowing what happened,
Nothing will come

Forget how my heart broke
And it grew together again
Forget your words and voice,
And hair shine.

Antique turquoise bracelet -
On a stalk
On this narrow, this long
My hand...

December and January

There was happiness at dawn in December,
It lasted for a moment.
Real, first happiness
Not from books!

In January there was grief at dawn,
It lasted an hour.
Real, bitter grief

For the first time!

I love you - but the flour is still alive...

I love you - but the flour is still alive.
Find soothing words:

Rainy, - wasting everything
Invent it yourself, so that in their foliage

The rain was heard: it was not a flail on a sheaf:
The rain hits the roof: so that it hits my forehead,

It flowed onto the coffin so that the forehead would shine,
Chills - subsided for someone to sleep

And slept...
Through the wells, they say,
Water is leaking. In a row
They lie there, don’t complain, but wait
Unknown. (They will burn me).

Lull me - but please, be a friend:
Not in letters, but in the cabin of hands: Comforts...

Fet Afanasy Afanasyevich

In the midnight silence of my insomnia...

In the midnight silence of my insomnia
Stand before the intense gaze
Former deities, idols of former days,
With their defiant reproach.

And again I love, and again I am loved,
I rush after the dreams of my loved ones,
And my sinful heart torments me with its
Unbearable injustice.

Goddesses before me, old friends,
Sometimes seductive, sometimes strict,
But in vain I search for altars before them:
They are debunked gods.

Before them the heart is again in anxiety and on fire,
But that flame is different from the past;
As if, indulging a mortal, he
Descended from the divine footstools.

And only the arrogant, in spite of a living dream,
Without knowing mercy and battle,
The mistresses stand at the same height
Under the whisper of a despised prayer.

The gaze searches for them again from under tired lids,
Praying to them in vain strives,
And the former incense of unfulfilled hopes
There is still smoke at their feet.

Don't avoid; I'm not begging...

Don't avoid; I'm not begging
No tears, no heart of secret pain,
I want freedom for my melancholy
And repeat to you: “I love you.”

I want to rush towards you, fly,
Like waves on a watery plain,
Kiss the cold granite,
Kiss and die!

Don't wake her up at dawn

Don't wake her up at dawn
At dawn she sleeps so sweetly;
Morning breathes on her chest,
It shines brightly on the pits of the cheeks.

And her pillow is hot,
And a hot, tiring dream,
And, turning black, they run onto the shoulders
Braids with ribbon on both sides.

And yesterday at the window in the evening
She sat for a long, long time
And watched the game through the clouds,
What the moon was up to while sliding.

And the brighter the moon played,
And the louder the nightingale whistled,
She became paler and paler,
My heart beat more and more painfully.

That's why on the young chest,
This is how the morning burns on the cheeks.
Don't wake her, don't wake her,
At dawn she sleeps so sweetly!

Rozhdestvensky Robert Ivanovich

I'll drown in your eyes, okay?

I'll drown in your eyes, okay?
After all, drowning in your eyes is happiness.
I’ll come up and say: “Hello,
I love you". It's complicated…
No, not difficult, but difficult
It's very difficult to love, do you believe it?
I'll come to a steep cliff
If I start to fall, will you have time to catch me?
Well, if I leave, will you write?
I want to be with you for a long time
A very long time…
All my life, you know?
I'm afraid of the answer, you know...
Answer me, but only silently,
Do you answer with your eyes, do you love me?
If yes, then I promise
That you will be the happiest
If not, then I beg you
Don't reproach with your gaze,
Don't look into the pool
Let you love someone else, okay...
Do you remember me at least a little?
I will love you, okay?
Even if I can’t, I will!
And I will always come to the rescue
If it gets difficult for you!

echo of love

The sky will be covered
motes of stars,
and the branches will bend elastically.
I can hear you a thousand miles away.
We are Echo,
We are Echo,
We -
long echo of each other.

And I care about you
wherever you are,
It's not difficult to touch with your heart.
Again love has called us along.
We are tenderness
We are tenderness.
We -
eternal tenderness of each other.

And even on the edge
creeping darkness
beyond the circle of death,
I know that we will not part with you.
We are the memory
We are memory.
We -
each other's stellar memory.

Me and WE

Love begins
with the letter “I”!
And only with “I”.

With “I” -
blind to jealousy.
With “I” -
and up to
non-existence.

Understand?
I -
in love.
Understand?
I -
I love.

I!
Not you
not you,
not him -
I'm getting burned
and I endure.

There is no one in the world.
There is her and me.
Together.
And on many planets
wind
filled with heat.

The babble of the classics?
Not that!
Bulb
in the middle of the day…
I know
that no one
didn't fall in love
before me!

I'll find the words
their.
I'll find it myself.
And I’ll tell you myself.
But it's not enough for me
Earth -
I will write on the constellations.

And no one else's milestones are needed.
To end.
For sure.

So do it
Human!
And don't listen to the whisper:
- We would hug each other
don't go...
We would like this
failed…

In our time,
in those years
we didn't dance...
So…

Indecent...
Neprili...

They gave us a lot of smoke!
They spun!..
Cut off all advice.
Gryan
a smile from the darkness:
– Show yourself in love!

You,
which
to “we”!

What to give to your loved one? There are many options, but poetry always comes first.

With their help, you can express the feelings that overwhelm your soul. This is the surest way to melt the ice of mistrust and attract attention.

Love lyrics can be different. Sometimes words from the heart are enough. And let the poems be awkward, and the carefully prepared words of confession full of grammatical or even spelling errors - it doesn’t matter! The main thing is that they are born independently, and express what the soul feels at the moment of excitement.

But not everyone thinks so. After all, the subject of passion, especially at the beginning of a relationship, is an unknown land, “terra incognita”. It is unknown how an impromptu, even one filled with sincere love and real emotions, will be perceived.

The works of the classics are a completely different matter. The love poems of the classical poets, known to a wide range of readers, still make a strong impression, regardless of the number of repetitions. In addition, a person reading the poems of a famous poet shows his loved one his erudition and erudition.

Will anyone understand and talk about women's love better than Anna Akhmatova or Marina Tsvetaeva? Have the words of the great Pushkin and the romantic Lermontov lost their relevance? Classic works never get old, just like true love never gets old.

The beauty of rhymes, unexpected comparisons, colorful metaphors in poems about love by classical poets are best able to express the depth of feelings of a person in love. At that moment when one’s own words are lost due to surging emotions, classical works - best way show yourself in the best possible light.

Where can I find classic poems that suit a specific person and his only love? The answer is simple: in books. But it’s hard to imagine how many pages you’ll have to flip through in search of the required poem! In times of general haste, it is difficult to find time for such thorough searches.

Our website contains the most touching, best poems about love. They are organized so conveniently that finding the desired work is not difficult. A large selection of poems allows you to satisfy the most demanding tastes.

Love is a feeling that has no age restrictions. An experienced lady and a naive girl, a mature man and an ardent young man are equally defenseless against the power of love. From the classics you can find love poems for any age and for any occasion. Our website contains classic works by various authors, from the most popular to the little-known. We provide the opportunity to find a poem by a classical poet that will tell exactly about your true, unique, deep Love.

I present to you a selection of the best love poems from the classics. Here are presented the love lyrics of poets of the Pushkin era and poets of the Silver Age.

The best classic poems about love

I remember a wonderful moment:
You appeared before me,
Like a fleeting vision
Like a genius of pure beauty.

In the languor of hopeless sadness
In the worries of the noisy bustle,

Don't wish for someone else's good
You, O God, command me;
But you know the extent of my strength -
Should I tender feeling manage?
I don't want to offend my friend
And I don’t want him to sit down,
I don't need his ox,
I look at everything calmly:

Goodbye love letter! goodbye: she said...
How long have I delayed! I haven't wanted to for so long
Hand consign all my joys to fire!..
But that's it, the time has come. Burn, letter of love.
I'm ready; My soul listens to nothing.
The greedy flame is already accepting your sheets...
Just a minute!.. they burst into flames! blazing - light smoke,

No, no, I shouldn't, I don't dare, I can't
It is crazy to indulge in the excitement of love;
I strictly protect my peace of mind
And I don’t let my heart burn and forget;
No, I have enough love; but why sometimes
I will not plunge into a moment's reverie,

I loved you: love is still, perhaps,
My soul has not completely died out;
But don't let it bother you anymore;
I don't want to make you sad in any way.

Empty "you" with a hearty "you"
She, having mentioned, replaced,
And all the happy dreams
It aroused the soul of the lover.
I stand before her thoughtfully;

My love is the scorching afternoon of Java,
Like a dream the deadly aroma spreads,
There the lizards lie, covering their pupils,
Here, boa constrictors coil around the trunks.

And you entered the unforgiving garden
For relaxation, for sweet fun?

* * *
I remember the golden time
I remember the dear land to my heart.
The day was getting dark; there were two of us;
Below, in the shadows, the Danube roared.
And on the hill, where, turning white,
The ruin of the castle looks into the valley,
There you stood, young fairy,

* * *
Oh, how murderously we love,
As in the violent blindness of passions
We are most likely to destroy,
What is dear to our hearts!
How long ago, proud of my victory,
You said: she is mine...
A year has not passed - ask and find out,
What was left of her?

"My dear! - you told me.
Why in the depths of my soul
Do you awaken violent desires?
Everything about you attracts me.
And here in my soul, ringing,
The charm is growing, growing!”

I've loved you for so many years
And I am gentle, and I am a poet.
So how is this, perfection,