How reciting poetry in Russian can cause a blackout

There are poets who wrote about everything, reading them feels like they're prophets, who knew, that one day you'll need to hear exactly these words of encouragement, or to be relaxed revelling in the beauty of nature, or a piece of advice related to friendship or just a good laugh. They're like invisible friends, who are always here by your side.

One of these poets for me is Evgeny Evtushenko, who recently died, but continues to live in numerous poems of his and voices of people from various corners of Russia. Mine is one of those voices, that would like you to hear the melody of Evtushenko's write and receive a boost in energy levels thanks to one of my favourite poems of his called "The Wings"



The Wings (translated by Alik Vagapov)

Ignoring mother's prudent urges
above the city noise, on high,
the little bird approached the edge of
the house roof amidst the sky

which lured with its blue spring colour
and booming winds that blew so high,
but where can one find magic power
to lift oneself into the sky?

It seemed that no such power was there,
but now and then it came in view
of little fledglings that would dare
jump off the roofs into the blue.

They flew up straight into the air,
up to the sun across the sky,
while it sat by, still unaware
that it had also wings to fly.

Shaking off doubts, all of a sudden,
courageous, daring it grew,
of force of wings so far uncertain,
believing in them, - up it flew.
1952

Крылья

Наказов матери не слыша,
над пестрым гулом городским
стоял птенец у края крыши,
и было небо перед ним.

Оно звало весенней синью,
ветрами гулкими трубя,
но где найти такую силу
чтобы в него поднять себя?

Казалось, этой силы нету,
но видел он, как наяву
его сородичи по небу
с домов ныряли в синеву.

Была дорога их прямая
уже у солнца самого,
а он стоял, не понимая,
что крылья есть и у него.

И вдруг, сомнения осилив,
до неожиданности смел,
еще не зная силы крыльев,
он в них поверил - и взлетел.
1952

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