Another version

Another version

Anastasia Volnaya

Дизайнер обложки Maxim Zheltov

Переводчик Maxim Zheltov

© Anastasia Volnaya, 2021

© Maxim Zheltov, дизайн обложки, 2021

© Maxim Zheltov, перевод, 2021

ISBN 978-5-0053-0883-2

Создано в интеллектуальной издательской системе Ridero

Introduction

Anastasia Volnaya is a contemporary author from Russia. She owes her creative perception to her parents: her father, musician Vladimir Danilchenko, and her mother, fashion designer Nadezhda Voronova.

She pays special attention to poetic forms and prose dimensions such essays, stories and fairy tales.

A selection of aphorisms stands out separately.

The title of the book is related to the title of one of the chapters of this book.

The book is divided into sections. One of the sections presents works in the original language, which is Russian.

About the author

Anastasia’s creativity is distinguished by a unique poetic technique of creating a verse. It is based on images that are born in the imagination of the reader after reading. The author uses free and accent methods of versification. Love, faith, a sense of beauty, kindness and tenderness laid down by Anastasia Volnaya in her works are transmitted to readers and encourages them to do good deeds, to find harmony with the world, to find faith and love.

Anastasia Volnaya has been published a lot in literary collections («The Shining of the Lyre», «Muse», «Third Breath»), music albums were recorded on her poems (the group «Noah’s Ark» and Terenty Travnik recorded the music album «The Fifth Season of the Year») and many music performers negotiated the use of verses in their songs. Together with Maxim Zheltov, she formed the creative association DanZhel – the union of a poet and an artist. A series of works were published under the general title – «Poems under Glass». Published in Orthodox editions and newspapers, such as «Lampada», «Silver Psalter». The first printed book was published in 2000. To date, 15 printed books have been published, as well as e-books in Russian and English, including through the Overdrive system and Smashwords, many of them are absolutely free.

Another version

These poems and essays are a reflection of Terenty Travnik’s creativity in my soul and are dedicated to Terenty Travnik, an artist I respect and dear brother.

Artistic project – poetic illustrations of Anastasia Volnaya for the paintings of Terenty Travnik under the general title – Another version (Inversion). The collection includes works born in 2004.

Anastasia Volnaya, 2004

Anastasia Volnaya and Terenty Travnik

Self-portrait

To look inside yourself – it is not for everybody.To keep the look of your soul – it is not for all of us.

Autoportrait by T.Travnik (early years)

Quiet place

The bell of autumn is quiet.Winged boySleeps, smiling, in the foliage —In that blue —In that depth —In that height,What suddenly descended to the ground.Quiet place.

Snails and star

Someone, on a distant, distant planet, created a picture where a star was depicted, enclosed, like a pearl, in an ornate shell. The star cautiously released rays – tendrils from under its shell and looked fascinated at the heavenly snails, freely shining in the heights.

Autumn fires

Autumn fires. Everywhere there are yellow, red lightning flashes of flying leaves. The past burns up with the fire of gold and blood. The path is cleared. The old man – the wanderer – the silent one walks serenely and decorously. Step is a moment. Step is a day. Step is a year. Step – century…

Glad tidings

Glad tidingsNature’s late hourLate time of afternoonPicture.Takeoff. Forgiveness.The fords of the mountain pool.Deep water swamp.Universe and Earth.The Most High Lord and IGlad tidings.

Lost shores or a mirage in the ice

Churches made of ice and snow are fragile.In vain is religion in fierce hearts.Cowardice,Lack of faith,Little of love —Stones of these devilish wordsThe way was paved in the lower hellish circles.Churches made of ice and snow are fragile.In vain is religion in fierce hearts.

By the beginning of the church year

The golden month colored with the light of the beauty of the night. How beautiful is the darkness that contains the light! The glass angel, standing on the windowsill, was surrounded by a halo of light reflected in it, as if alive, as if animated, he sounded a hymn to the light in his little horn. The heart of darkness is light. Who believed in darkness? This phantom, myth? Darkness doesn’t exist. There is no darkness. Just as there is no death. Darkness is a canvas under the colors of light. Death is a step to a new life. The glass angel will break someday, but the light that once filled it is eternal. And the anthem that is played on a small horn will always sound.

Old New Year

Phantasmagoria.Night is like harmonyOf snow and fire.Sun and moonMerged together.Eclecticism of wonderfully mixed symbols.Catching imaginary dragonflies – the birth of new years, with the help of a net-cap kept by the gnome.

Daughter of september

Daughter of September. The sun. Death. The sun.

Daughter of september. Bride of october. The message of omnipresent eternity. Maiden of blessing.

Aglaya.

City of Silver Roofs

The city of silver roofs.In the soundless, in not reality, in colorlessness.New essence.As in good timeless fairy tales,In the future, in the springSilence flows like a symphony…Hear…

DanZhel (poetry and essay under glass)

Parable about time

Having no flesh, and therefore feeling pain. With abysses instead of eyes, and therefore all-seeing. Possessing immeasurable cruelty and therefore giving life. Extremely merciful and therefore killing. Silent and therefore omniscient. All-knowing and therefore silent. From great to the incomprehensible. From incomprehensible to the great. Have power over thought and subject only to thought. Eternally living and therefore knowing death. Knowing death and therefore living forever.

1991 year

Essay

He was white and airy.She was a hot brunette.She built a fire for him.He gave her rain.She disappeared around the corner of the wonderful mansion.He became day and looked for her everywhere.She exuded stars from the sparks, knowing that henever see them, knowing that they are only for him.He was looking for her.He was looking for her.1998 year

Musician

Dedicated to my father – clarinetist Vladimir Danilchenko

The street musician played the evening. The jewels in the hat at his feet grew darker as the day melted into them. But the flowers waltzed in the ever-light snow. Passers-by hurried to the electric suns of their homes, leaving living blue sapphires at the musician’s feet. The musician played the evening.

1999 year

Man and woman

Two wings,Two windsTwo sides of the worldOne flight.2009 year

Pen and paper

The woman is a white paper sheet. The man is a feather. The paper will readily accept words, thoughts, feelings, images entrusted to it by the pen. Paper is able to carefully preserve, glorify and perpetuate what is entrusted to it by the pen.

The paper will forgive blots and mistakes. The paper will make it possible to correct the crossed out lines. The paper, like white wings, will gladly lift up to the sun the essence expressed on its pure heart by the pen. There is no more fertile soil than a pure heart of paper. The union of pen and paper gives rise to the richest shoots, but only when all the letters are titled with the words – «I love you.»

2006 year

Kindness

I will go,As in deliriumOn the thinnest ice.I will findThat dreamThat star —Kindness.I will fall —Well, let,But the path is righteous.I will riseI will smileI will pray —And go ahead!To that star —Kindness2000 year

The berries of eternity

With a basket of light gray heather of timeEternity walked on by fate, as if on berries.In the forest villages of the wingless sleeping tribeShe looked for herbs for sunny wines and medicines.Parallel winds merged in the unity of breath.Myrrh gave incense to the good winds.In the basket are the buds of the spring flowersof the universe,The moisture of the rains and the reflectionof the heavenly lightning.In a basket of light gray heather of time.1994 year

The letter «O»

My wings are droppingWhen I meet evilWithout beginning or endWithout the back of the head and facePainfully flattened «O»Screaming crooked «O»There is no smoke in it, no fireIt has no personality, no «I».«O» is not my enemy and not my friend,Just a curly-sided circle.My wings riseWhen I meet evil.I soar above evil.Only soundOnly «O»,Evil is nothing.2009 year

Girl

In the labyrinths of rain wanders girlBarefoot, blue-eyed.The red curl sticks to the cheek,She ate cherries – now grimy.Laughs like the sun in the morningOver a world obscure wiseAnd everything is easy for her, that is difficultAnd all that is usually a miracle.Teach me, dear girlTo be lighter than a white lily.Teach you to believe in a fairy tale where is summerWill decorate the meadows with gouache,Where did the carriage come from the pumpkinAnd where is the kind Baba Yaga.(Negative character of Russian fairy tales)Teach a quiet song to hearThat flowers sing, opening.Teach how to embroider without goldGolden patterns – dreams.Teach me to reach the skyFive-rayed palm.And believing in real fiction,Stay earthly and pureTeach me, dear girl.2008 year

To the artist`s pictures

To the painting by Grigory Chernetsov «Dead Sea»

Like a dream.Like a moan.A lioness running along the seaLike a ghost, a moment or a bird.And the light is silveryPlanets of unknownWonderful,Icy,Free.2001 year

To the canvas by Carlo Dolci «Young Christ with a bouquet of flowers»

A boy in purple robesA boy like the sunHolding bouquetThe brightest colors —The crown of a passing childhoodDivine fate symbol.Christ will die youngChrist will rise up youngChrist the essence and beacon of faith,Truth and love.A boy in purple robesThe boy is like the sun.2001 year

Angelus

Evening as an angel sleeps on a cloud.In guise praying to the divine EarthMillet’s revelation came.Angelus.1998 year

To the landscape of Isaac Levitan «At the Pond»

It’s evening at the pond.The water extinguished the mirrored sunsLike candles.In the darkening distance, the last birdGraduated from the song.ForerunnerFlight in a dream —A fading, melting evening.2001 year

We

Dedicated to my husband Maxim Zheltov

We are a tree.I am the roots.You are the trunkGoing up.I am the branches.And believingInto each otherWe areOne worldAnd eternity.

And God keeps us, as long as We are I.

2001 year

To drawings by Aubrey Beardsley

Black outlines.White shadows.By charcoal and by chalk.By spirit and by body.Images are dual