The earth is spinning fast. View Full Version

George Polonsky wrote:
... I did not expect deception from the book of wanderings,
I believed that in some chapter
He will come forward from the fog
Your shore in the weightless blue...

But there is an error in the course of the ship!
Recently, I see it clearly
The earth is spinning fast
And we're not getting any closer...

And nothing changes... the first love remains the first for life...

***
There was still a mistake in the course then,
Fate separated us from you.
And lived differently all the years.
What I dreamed about that cherished spring ...

The earth rotated, we sailed away
With you from each other further, further,
The ships have dropped anchor,
Those ships were cut into pieces.

And we are all looking frantically for a course,
What will bring us together someday with you,
But life goes on, the resource ends,
And we are divorced forever by fate!

L. Starshinova

Picture from the Internet

Reviews

This work (not even a verse) arose so by itself, but Polonsky's poem .... this is my childhood, the film "We'll Live Until Monday" so happened that I had the honor to be at the premiere of this film ... so he remained the most beloved movie...
And you thought I was claiming something???
I am not so conceited and quite critical of my works

People, here we are relatives, I think - the most brilliant film of the 20th and 21st centuries ... where else can you hear this - Happiness is when you are understood !!! Do not add do not subtract)

Yes! There are some great movies out there these days!
In my opinion, those few seconds when the eyes of the participants are shown on the screen ... this is ... A GENIUS move!
And no bloody scenes are able to convey everything that is read in these eyes...
Thanks for the dialogue

I completely agree ... but remember how the teacher recalls Schmidt in the context of Dostoevsky - he could not believe in universal harmony, if it was based on at least one tortured child ...
To this day, a meager number remember this poignant and terrible thought. After all, if there is no harmony, that is, God, then everything is permitted!!!
And you can kill, rape ... that is, to be animals!

The daily audience of the Potihi.ru portal is about 200 thousand visitors, who in total view more than two million pages according to the traffic counter, which is located to the right of this text. Each column contains two numbers: the number of views and the number of visitors.

Gee-en! - Kostya called to Genka, who did not go with everyone, but to the stairs of the other wing. - Gena-tsvale!

Genka stopped. Rita and Kostya approached him.

Well, what are you so worried about? Rita asked him, affectionately, it seemed to him.

It's not worth it, Gen, - Kostya supported her. - Do you know the theory of the eaten egg? Through it and look at everything, it helps.

Listen, send everyone to me. I'm finishing the tape recorder - you can help me mount it. BUT?

I do not want.

I'll feed you! And there is a bottle of dry. Think.

No, I'm home.

And I know what you want, - Kostya narrowed his eyes.

So that I set sail now, and Rita stays with you. Guessed? - And realizing from the hardening of Genka's cheekbones that he guessed, Kostya laughed, pleased. - So it's possible, we are not greedy people, - right, Rit?

He looked inquisitively in turn - now into Ritkin's, cheerful and green, then into Genka's dark, unfriendly eyes. Rita was attacked by a fit of laughter - she burst into tears:

Genka, agree, otherwise he will change his mind! ...

Only, of course, one condition: do not enter the entrances and do not dissolve the robbers. Is it coming? Take a walk, talk ... Or you can go to the cinema. Well, why are you silent?

Genka stood, pursed his lips, and finally squeezed out an absurd answer:

And I have no money.

And don't, why? Rita was surprised. - I have a treshka with change.

No. I owe him... for rental. How much do you charge per hour, Kostya? Genka spoke slowly, angrily and quietly.

Rita gasped.

Well, you know! and slapped him across the face. - Bastard! Crazy... Don't come near!

Yes, but ... - Kostya Batishchev drawled, stunned. - For such jokes, this is still not enough ... Another time they will clean the beak like that ... You need to be treated, Shestopal! You, like all shorties, have a sick pride!

Rita's tears did not splash, but her forehead and nose turned red, she blew up, driving her light strand away - and clattered her heels down the stairs.

Genka, leaning against the wall, looked at the ceiling.

You, Genochka, can't take a hit. So learn to lose - so as not to lose face ... Otherwise, it's disgusting!

With disgusted annoyance, Kostya kicked Genka's briefcase, which was standing on the floor. And he started to catch up with Rita.

... When Genka walked slowly towards the gym, he discovered that Kostya had flown in now: Rita retired there, in an empty unlit hall, her "bodyguard" tried to get her out of there, tore the door on himself ... The door succumbed, and Rita - No:

And you want in the face? I can you too! she shouted in utter anger. And the door in front of his nose - bang!

From a distance Kostya glanced at Genka, spat and left.

…The gym switch was outside. Genka, after some hesitation, turned on the light for Rita. She looked out and turned it off - out of principle. He lit it again. She turned off again.

The mood on both sides of the door was equally gloomy. Rita moved the "goat" to the door, sat on it for strength, singing in the twilight: "I was driving home ... I thought about you ... My thought is sad and confused and torn..."

And then she suddenly heard poetry!

... I did not expect deception from the book of wanderings,

I believed that in some chapter

He will come forward from the fog

Your shore in the weightless blue...

But there is an error in the course of the ship!

Lately I can see it clearly

The earth is spinning fast

And we are not getting closer ...

Silence.

More ... - said Rita quietly, but commandingly.

And Natasha and Melnikov were walking again - already among the evening crowd, against the backdrop of illuminated shop windows ... For most, the non-working Saturday had already begun. And these two acted as if they had the day off tomorrow. They trampled their feet very thoroughly!

From the other side of the street they chanted joyfully:

Na! - ta! - sha!

Natasha looked around: five young, cheerful, well-dressed people were standing at the Operetta Theater. Two girls, three guys.

Natasha, eyes shining, apologized to Melnikov:

I am now...

And ran to the other side.

Melnikov stood, smoking, watching.

Natasha chatted animatedly with her college classmates. Laughter. Questions. She pulled with her answers, was evasive, and they were eager to give out two or three "blocks of information" of the most urgent nature. Something touched her closely ... (in vain she makes a carefully detached face at the mention of individual names). And the coolest thing would be to lure Natasha with you to one hospitable house, where it will surely be great, where she will be welcome, but there is an obstacle - "grandfather", a gray-haired bespectacled man unknown to them on the opposite side ...

The trolley bus stopped and blocked Melnikov from Natasha.

When she, explaining something to her friends, turns in his direction, the trolley bus is gone, but neither is Melnikov.

Still not believing, Natasha looks to where she left him ...

What happened, Natasha? - asks one of the guys, noticing her dull look, her half-open mouth ...

In the gym they were now alone - Rita and Genka. It seems that he is already forgiven - thanks to the verses.

Rita jumped off the goat.

You've gotten better at writing, she concludes. - More artistic. - And takes the briefcase. - Need to go. Now someone will drag along, scream ...

There is no one at school.

At all? it does not happen, even at night someone is there.

Both listened. It looks like everyone is really gone… Quietly. No, one nanny shouted something to another, - and again quietly ...

And you imagine that, apart from us, there is no one ... - said Genka, sitting on the uneven bars, - the drama of short stature always pulled him higher ...

Leaning her head on her shoulder and squinting, Rita said:

Please do not hope that I warmed up and grew mad from your poems!

I don't hope, Genka muttered dully. - I'm not such a utopian! - Suddenly he blushed and formulated the following hypothesis:

Poems in your honor - it's only a promise, isn't it? Like an advance? After that - perfume will be from Paris, stockings, rags ... maybe sable! Only not from lip-slaps, - from real fans? But who should be thanked ... for real?

For a sable! Still would! - She laughed. I was amused by the gloomy seriousness with which he predicted all this! He was almost losing weight before his eyes, imagining to himself that "inclined plane" on which she was about to find herself! Scream…

Do you seem to scare me? Will I have to do something terrible? Immoral?! What can't be said? Moms ... Or is the fear only that all this is not with you ?!

……Looks like he insulted her without realizing it? Otherwise, why would she respond with such scum? Yes, apparently, that “inclined plane” was somewhat vague for him, which is why he went too far ... But now her tone is no longer biting, but admonishing:

My job, Genochka, is to warn you: nothing will ever work out for you and me ... You are probably infantile for me. Too small. It's not about height, don't think ... no, in general, somehow. I was like that in the seventh grade, like you are now! ...

Suddenly Genka tensed up and announced:

Do you want the truth? Intellectually, I know that you are a man - so-so. Not "a ray of light in a dark kingdom" ...

Tell me please! Revenge right away, right? Rita exploded.

“…I know that,” Genka continued, squinting, “I just try not to take it into account. The soul - you know, it develops defensive tactics for itself ... Just - so as not to get bloodied every day ...

I'm sorry, what?

You don't understand, unfortunately. I just realized this myself yesterday...

He turned away and, it seemed, was completely absorbed in the difficult task of how to get over the windowsill from the beams to the rings. From the uneven bars - because he could not jump to them from the ground for anything. Even for her sake...

Out! hung. Pulled up.

Again the foliage sweeps the garden.
Tears of rain knocking in the night
................................................ on the roof.

Leaving a trace, the old day is leaving.
And the new one, without you, fate will write.
And the shadow is longer and longer than the years gone,
and we are not getting closer!

Tear autumn memory can not be erased!
And do not appease the longing in the heart niche!
We are destined to grow old in separation,
without getting closer to the falling leaves!

I have been looking for you for many years!
It's autumn again, but again I foresee -
me a sentence -
.................... "addressee dropped out" ...
And the pain echoes - "We do not get closer!"

How to sing songs with a broken string?!
How can I survive in this world without you?!
Falling leaves again... And who's to blame,
that you and I are not getting closer?!

Again the foliage sweeps the garden.
And the heart beats quieter every year.
All as then, many years ago,
but you and I are not getting closer!

And we're not getting any closer...

Tags:

Comments

Thank you very much! I myself understand that this is not ideal). 5 minutes ago I composed a poem and posted it right away, but I'll still think about this line. Unfortunately, there are almost no suitable rhymes at all). I bow.

And why can’t I write this earthly path in general. For the sake of a red word or rhyme, you can’t write anything, you need to write for the sake of meaning, but here the meaning is too sad, everything cries, everything pours, a little more fun and it will be yes! Do not forget that words come true .

24.12.2005, 01:55

I bring to your attention very unusually beautiful and meaningful poems by an English poet named W.H. Auden
Submit everything too!

Some say that Love's a little boy
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go round
And some say that's absurd::silly:
But when I asked the man next door
Who looked as if he knew
His wife was very cross indeed
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pajamas
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?

Does its odor remind one of llamas
Or has it a comforting smell?
O tell me the truth about love.

Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is
Or soft as eiderdown fluff
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summerhouse,
It wasn't ever there
I've tried the Thames at Maidenhead
And Brighton's bracing air;
I don't know what the blackbird sang
Or what the roses said
But it wasn't in the chicken run
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces,
Is it usually sick on a swing?
O tell me the truth about love.

Does it spend all its time at the races
Or fiddling with pieces of string,:fan:
O tell me the truth about love.

Has it views of its own about money,
Does it think Patriotism enough
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

your feelings when you meet it
I am told you can't forget
I've sought it since I was a child
But haven't found it yet;
I'm getting on for thirty-five,
And still I don't know
What kind of creature it can be
That bothers people so.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
O tell me the truth about love.

Will it knock on my door in the morning
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
O tell me the truth about love.

Will it come like a change in the weather,
Will its greeting be courteous or bluff,
Will it alter my life altogether?8)
O tell me the truth about love.

24.12.2005, 20:57

Britten set this poem to music.
Soprano: Tatyana Kuindzhi, piano: A. Goribol

http://download.orst.ru/tk/love.mp3

25.12.2005, 21:21

Ja prekrasno znaju pro Brittena - sam akkompaniruju zavtreva8)

28.12.2005, 15:57

And although not about love, but about beauty (in Pasternak's translation about the beautiful), but the verses are good in my opinion.

A THING of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morning, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling cover make
'Gainst the hot season; mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

J. Keats. Endymion, part 1.

09.02.2008, 16:20

09.02.2008, 16:54

While watching the film "We'll Live Until Monday", I came across poems that a boy reads to a girl through a closed door:

I did not expect deceit from the book of wanderings.
I believed that in some chapter
He will sail to the meeting from the fog, -
Your shore in the weightless blue!

Ho there is an error in the ship's kypce, -
Recently, I see it clearly:
The earth is spinning fast,
And we are not getting closer with you ...

Who can say whose poetry these are? In my opinion, they are very good.

Attention! Editing a post is possible only while it is the last one in the topic.
Send! (http://javascript:SubmitEd() | Cancel (http://javascript:CancelEd()

Revising the "branches", I came across this (see above).

You, this .. of that! .. Copy carefully! Don't scare the local people: it's on the beatles.ru website "... editing a message is possible only while it is the last one in the topic", but here you can edit at least a hundred times and whenever you want!.. :-)

09.02.2008, 17:13

So you can't really say anything?

09.02.2008, 17:33

You know yourself: if the poems were more or less famous poet- Surname would be indicated in the credits. You need to carefully look at the credits: if there is nothing about the author of these poems, there are options: did the screenwriter write the poems especially for the film? producer? a friend of one or the other? someone else...

Google, I assume you've gone through it already? Did you give anything on this issue?

Look here:

http://www.songkino.ru/songs/dozhiv_pon.html

About those poems that a boy reads to a girl - alas, nothing ...

In terms of style, it looks like poems about a tit and a crane ... Therefore, we can make the assumption that these poems are also George Polonsky ...

09.02.2008, 18:01

You know yourself: if the poems were of a more or less famous poet, the surname would be indicated in the credits ...
However, in Soviet times, sometimes in the credits of films they could not indicate everyone who made this or that contribution to the work on the film ...

Find, for example, Alla Pugacheva in the credits of "Irony of Fate ..."

Thanks for Polonsky. These verses are indeed included directly in the text of the film script.

09.02.2008, 18:29

Find, for example, Alla Pugacheva in the credits of "Irony of Fate ..."

I'm not going to look for her name there. I know that name is not there.

09.02.2008, 18:33

Thanks for Polonsky. These verses are indeed included directly in the text of the film script.

To health! :-)
In vain you constantly change your "signatures"! .. :-?
That one, your first "signature" ("... Until you figure everything out, you yourself will be to blame for everything ...") - it suited you very much ... :-)

Luka Dr. Tepes

11.02.2008, 23:41

Yo dije que me gustaba
-ella me estuvo escuchando-
que, en primavera el amor
fuera vestido de blanco.

Alzo sus ojos azules,
y se me quedo mirando,
con una triste sonrisa
en los virginales labios.

Siempre que cruce su calle,
al ponerse el sol de mayo,
estaba, seria, en su puerta,
toda vestida de blanco.

(Juan Ramon Jimenez)

I just said once-
she was able to hear
I like that in the spring
love dressed in white.

Blue eyes raised,
glanced with a reliable unsteadiness,
and only baby lips
flashed a sad smile.

Since then, when across the square
I walked in the May sunset
she stood at the door
serious, in a white dress.

(translated by N. Vanhanen)

28.08.2008, 18:09

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it "s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that "s keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

10.09.2008, 01:02

Snowflakes are falling, gentle cold is melting...
Snowflakes fall on my tracks.
And it already seems that there is no city around,
And forests and groves, rivers and ponds.

What's this? Isn't it a dream? It's the sound of a tram...
What's this? Isn't it a dream? That car hums...
No, the wind rushed by, shaking the tree,
The footprint in the snow is deep ... What is it, what is it?

Where is reality, where is my dream? blackened branches,
And between them - the sun on the trunks of the seal ...
The noise of the crowd, as if in our grove the wind,
The sound of happy steps... Is it time to be bored?

I'm going to the club ... From the portrait - a kind look towards me.
"What did you do?" he asks again.
That I study at the party school, I will answer him,
That by his covenant my path is illumined.

Lenin smiles. I will be diligent
Listen to what the Central Committee tells us in the letter,
And as if my forehead is stroking gently, gently
Warm, native Lenin's hand.

(Viktor Sosnora, 1927)

I really like the images of confusion of feelings here - the honking car and the ringing of the tram. Well, this final stroking of the forehead is a brilliant find. Without trifles. Because love.

11.09.2008, 16:33

Any creature has dignity,
In everything there are reflections of the saint.
And the earthly world and heaven
I love that everything is Christ's!
I. Roman

11.09.2008, 16:42

And what prevents Hieromonk Roman from writing?:-?

Alisa Nazarova

28.03.2010, 09:58

Accidentally stumbled upon one site dedicated to the film "Let's Live Until Monday" and this is what I found:
Crane.

Sl. - G. Polonsky
Music - K. Molchanov

(only poems are used in the film)

This is not a lie, not a fable:
Others have seen, I have seen
Like a tame silly tit
They tried to turn the crane.

So that he does not see the blue distance
And don't get off the ground
Roughly ringed the crane
And they made a note in the journal.

Hidden in the closet, tied the wings
White bird of my happiness.
So that she breathes warm dust
And didn't notice anything.

But not without reason the bird grew stronger in the sky -
Fools were fools.
A broken cage, a pile of ashes
And the crane is back in the clouds.

I'm on fire.

How much flour
holy sounds
They give me!

But with the force of grated
I'll send everything to hell.
Come to me.

Sergey Yesenin

31.03.2010, 22:29

Mikhail Shcherbakov (http://megalyrics.ru/about/mikhail-shcherbakov.htm) - Cherry jam

La, la, la...
Now on the pier the crowd both hoots and applauds.
A ship came from distant countries - the whole city was waiting for it.
Every face burns with delight, and every glance shines with delight,
Fireworks rumble, the ladder sighs, the sailors go to the pier.

The radiance of glory blinds them, they are excited by the ringing of regalia,
They have long prepared a stunning story -
How they did not spare the stomach and sacredly guarded the honor,
And everyone passed and surpassed and realized better than us.

You know, I can't stand it, I'll run to admire
I'll be gone for a while, I'll get to the celebration.
Well, how long can you stay next to you day and night
And admire you day and night - and nothing more.

After all, we are two steps away from the sea, and the noise of the crowd is so clearly audible.
I distinguish the roar of the waves, I listen to the cannon fire ...
And you laugh at me, you eat cherry jam,
And you don't trust me for a penny, and I don't trust myself.

This is how year after year goes by, pandemonium reigns all around.
And century after century is dissolved in the cycle of vanity.
And you are terribly busy - you eat cherry jam,
And on earth no one eats it more beautifully than you.

The curve of the divine hand is always the same, and forever new,
And in a spoon, a berry glistens unfinished to the mouth.
Not blood, not tears, not wine - just cherry juice,
But I will not leave you: and nowhere, and never!

I got a whole three rubles - No, I owe him for the rental ... How much do you charge per hour, Kostya, huh? -Fool! -Yes, for such jokes, and without an eye you can be left -Psycho -You need to be treated, Shestopalov .. yeah. -You, like all shorties, have a sick pride -And you want in the face? I can do it for you - go, go I was driving home, I was thinking about you, my thought was anxious and confused and torn I did not expect deceit from the book of wanderings, I believed that in some chapter he would come forward from the fog - your shore is in a weightless blue ... but there is a mistake in the course of the ship! recently, I can clearly see it - the earth is rapidly rotating, but you and I are not getting closer there is no one at school -But it doesn’t happen ... even at night there is someone -And you imagine that there is no one except us -Just please don’t hope that I melted from your poems -But I don’t hope. .. I'm not such a utopian anymore - And in general they are not written for that - It's okay to lie - It's my job to warn - Nothing will ever work out with you - You understand ... - You, Genochka, are small ... - I'm like that in the seventh grade was like you now -Do you want the truth? -Well? -Intellectually, I know that you are a person... so-so... -Not a ray of light in the dark kingdom -Tell me please... -I know that... -I just try not to take it into account -What-what? - You won't understand, unfortunately, - I myself only realized it the day before yesterday - Well, what did you understand ... the day before yesterday? - That a person needs to be in love with someone or something ... always ... all the way - Otherwise, life is not interesting - Well, it's easiest for me to fall in love with you. On bezrybe... -And it doesn't matter to you how I feel about you? -No -That doesn't change things -If this same spring were inside -So you can assume that I'm not in love with you... -And, let's say, with Cherevichkina... easier to write? Well, dedicate them now ... Cherevichkina -Good luck (good luck) -Natasha -Model various creative processes determined by abilities, inclinations -And, finally, a person’s talent is a daring task, but doable -I have notes in my hands - this is music written by an electronic composer - Do not be surprised, of course, that a person set the tasks for this electronic composer - You can see for yourself the merits of these compositions - There will probably be viewers who will say: "A machine is not capable of experiencing human emotions, and they make up the soul music" - But, firstly ... But, firstly, it is necessary to define exactly what a human emotion, soul and man himself are - Will he really determine? -And, secondly, ... the music offered to you is, after all, not Mozart -And thanks for that -Everything has cooled down, probably -Mom ... give me vodka -Yes, here you have some kind of strange dispatch arrived I signed The program "New in Music" is over In a few minutes we will continue the story about the hockey match and turn on the Sports Palace- Dear, Comrade Melnik, I don’t have time to visit you and, therefore, I have to apply in writing - My daughter systematically receives triples in your subject, this is surprising and alarming - After all, history is not mathematics, there is no need to be seven spans in the forehead - I personally... they personally... checked Lyuba in paragraphs 61 to 65 and I think that she can be rated 4 (good) - I suggest you check my daughter again in the indicated paragraphs. Potekhin - A major specialist - And all this on a government letterhead, he didn’t even spend money on paper - Why are you worried, you yourself said that if a person is stupid, then for a long time - It was Voltaire who spoke, not me. Mom, he's not so stupid - He's inspired by... memories - Yes... look what I found - Vanya Kovalev. Do you remember writing about him? An outstanding physicist - I remember, I remember ... - Mom, thank you ... I don't feel like it anymore - It's drizzling again? - Mom, have you noticed that there is some kind of hopelessness in impersonal proposals? - It's drizzling... it's windy... it's getting dark... - You know why? - No one to complain about - And no one to complain to