Иосиф Бродский - "ТОПИЛАСЬ ПЕЧЬ" - Миша Мармар
******* Спасибо...
******* Спасибо...
Совершенно не ...
Совершенно не согласна с предыдущими комментариями. Бесподобной красоты и глубины стихи, а музыка делает их печаль просто щемящей.
Очень красивый клип ...
Очень красивый клип, но, к сожалению, синтезатор мешает услышать стихи.Чуть изменить бы аранжировку, прекрасно было бы.
Да, такой способ ...
Да, такой способ подачи Бродского кажется мне неподходящим. Я даже слова не слушаю, а ведь это самое главное.
В качестве элемента ...
В качестве элемента приобщения ресторанной публики к Бродскому, вполне годится. Но с художестенной стороны... Прописанные в синтезаторе барабаны, общая эстетика радио "Шансон" не выдерживают критики. Спасает только Бродский.
It is a very ...
It is a very beautiful video and song. Thank you. Who is interested to listen to Brodsky's blues in English please look for Manhattan Blues performed by Alabin and Neiman.
Check out the ...
Check out the music of Miguel Kertsman. If you liked this video, you'll definitely enjoy it! - MK Marketing Team Please Subscribe and watch our videos!
Most Beautiful ...
Most Beautiful video... Simply Exquisite narration. I love the voice and the music. Thank you so much for sharing this GEM. I love it. Thak you for the Biographical text. 5 ***** right to my fav. and to my special PL.
Спасибо.
Спасибо.
Thank you for you ...
Thank you for you kind words! Actually, the translation is NOT mine. I found this first attempt of the author - Mr. Iosevich in his own blog. Wonderful LYRICS, music, rendition... and very faithful translation, indeed!
Thank you - for ...
Thank you - for translation, it is awesome to find intelligent useful life on internet! And to post translation of something so beautiful, for the whole world to understand, that is your gift to us.
Yes, this is ...
Yes, this is translation of the Russian poem, written by Joseph Brodsky.
Is this ...
Is this translation of the video? Beautiful - both. Even not knowing the language, can appreciate the art of the speech and music. Wonderful. Beautiful.
GREAT CLIP!!!!!!
GREAT CLIP!!!!!!
The one who writes ...
The one who writes a poem writes it above all because verse writing is an extraordinary accelerator of conscience, of thinking, of comprehending the universe. Having experienced this acceleration once, one is no longer capable of abandoning the chance to repeat this experience; one falls into dependency on this process, the way others fall into dependency on drugs or on alcohol. One who finds himself in this sort of dependency on language is, I guess, what they call a poet.
Beginning a poem, ...
Beginning a poem, the poet as a rule doesn't know the way it's going to come out, and at times he is very surprised by the way it turns out, since often it turns out better than he expected, often his thought carries further than he reckoned. And that is the moment when the future of language invades its present.
Possessing its own ...
Possessing its own genealogy, dynamics, logic, and future, art is not synonymous with, but at best parallel to history; and the manner by which it exists is by continually creating a new aesthetic reality. That is why it is often found "ahead of progress", ahead of history, whose main instrument is - should we not, once more, improve upon Marx - precisely the cliché.
Lots of things can ...
Lots of things can be shared: a bed, a piece of bread, convictions, a mistress, but not a poem by, say, Rainer Maria Rilke. A work of art, of literature especially, and a poem in particular, addresses a man tete-a-tete, entering with him into direct - free of any go-betweens - relations.
JB abt literature/ ...
JB abt literature/art: ......... If art teaches anything (to the artist, in the first place), it is the privateness of the human condition. Being the most ancient as well as the most literal form of private enterprise, it fosters in a man, knowingly or unwittingly, a sense of his uniqueness, of individuality, of separateness - thus turning him from a social animal into an autonomous "I".
To understand that ...
To understand that it is over now And has been since before we can remember. Yet roam the wood of thought and wonder how The lumberjack is silent in his chamber. The trees and bushes standing in the night. The distant hills are gripped in deadly violence. The moons on fire- what an awesome sight! And burns the trees in crippling midnight silence.
The fire burnt and ...
The fire burnt and flickered in the dark. The wooden logs kept sparkling very slightly. And thoughts about the winter, long and stark Were roaming through my mind almost nightly. Just how damaged does one need to be: In lieu of park thats right across the city A hazy landscape in the mind to see, Knowing that it has gone away- a pity.
Стоят стволы, ...
Стоят стволы, стоят кусты в ночи. Вдали холмы лежат во тьме угрюмо. Луна горит, как весь огонь в печи, и жжет стволы. Но только нет в ней шума.
Да, понимать, что ...
Да, понимать, что все пришло к концу тому назад едва ль не за два века, но мыслями блуждать в ночном лесу и все не слышать стука дровосека.