A night, a
street, a lamp, a drugstore
A meaningless and dismal light
A quarter century outpours -
It’s all the same. No chance to flight.
You’d die and rise anew, begotten.
All would repeat as ever might:
The street, the icy rippled water,
The store, the lamp, the lonely night.
I met these
lines for the first time when i was a student of the Academy of the Dramatic
Arts. At that time they were only the part of voice training. I was pronouncing
these lines over and over again as the others feeling no sense in them. One
winter night i found myself on the bank of the Pryazhka river where the poet
Alexander Block had written these versus. In this exact place i was waiting for
the taxi in the frost citing these lines and i suddenly caught the inner sense
of these words and felt this timeless atmosphere of this place which were so
simply and deeply expressed by the poet.