Occult jump of Mikhail Kuzmin from Music to Writing

The great poet from Russian Literature Mikhail Kuzmin (b. 18 Oct 1872 — d. 1 March 1936) originally was a musician, and later he moved his interest in writing. Kuzmin was from a noble family background. The man who never graduated from the university. He said why I love poetry and explained what it is exactly according to him.

It is easier and simpler poetry falls ready-made from the sky. Like manna into the mouths of an Israelites in the desert.

However, living and setting his goal on the writing did not make his love weaker for music. His work in music has little but has its poisons.

A Friend to all is a friend to none

— Aristotle

Friendship plays an important role in our life. One and everyone gets influence on life because of friends. Thus, Kuzmin also had two influences in his life one was travel and the other was soviet politician and linguist, patrician George Chicherin. They had never relationship less than any friendship.

He extensively travelled, brought many memories but the great turning and life’s learning were from old Believers. Mikhail’s journey had started from Egypt to Italy and his last part where he had spent his life was the northern part of Russia. Furthermore, Mikhail became an important figure in gay literature.

He slowly started gearing up in writing when Russian poet, critic and historian Valery Bryusov found his writing attractive and interesting to read. However, Valery had invited him to contribute to one of the famous literary magazines, Vesy. In the year 1906 for Kuzmin it became the best year for him as two of his famous work published.

His book, The Cycle, seven sections anthology also called as Aleksandrijskie Pesni. However, the book has a total 32 poems. The First two poems considered senses evoking about the great city that he admired was Alexandria (Egypt).

Poem: from “The Cycle” by Mikhail Kuzmin

Like a mother’s lullaby

Over her baby’s cradle

Like a mountain echo

Answering the shepherd’s pipe at daybreak,

Like the remote surge

Of my native sea, long un-beheld

Thy name rings in my ears

Thrice blessed Alexandria!

Like the hesitant whispering,

In the oak’s deep shade,

of love’s confessions,

Like the mysterious murmur

Of the shadowy sacred groves,

Like the lamborine of great Cybele,

Bringing to mind far thunder and the more of doves

Thy name rings in my ears,

Thrice sapient Alexandria!

Like the sound of a trumpet before battle,

The scream of an eagle over the abyss,

The rushing wings of flying NIKE

Thy name rings in my ears

Thrice mighty Alexandria

— The Cycle

Mikhail was the only writer whose first Russian novel, Wings received literary acclaimed and made him widely known.

His poetry is erudite and the themes range from Ancient Greece to Alexandria to modern day Petersburg

— Roberta Reeder

Sergei Yesenin: To die, in this life, is not new, And living’s no newer, of course.

“Sergei Yesenin proved that despite having bad habits (heavy drinking and outburst publicly), his soul was clean. When any man tired of living human life and want to go away from depression, die is not new. All that defined in his last poem before he committed suicide.”


Young Yesenin in 1912

His full name was Sergei Yesenin (b. 3 Oct, 1895 –d. 28 Dec 1925) was a popular poet of 20s from Russia. Even with his writings, he was a kind of guy who could light up the room by his appearance and impressive nature of his style. Moreover, this was the man that lady could easily arouse by his presence. However, being a constant drinker and outburst publicly was his regular nature.
At the age of 19, he published his first poetry book “Beryoza” (The Birch Tree) in 1914 was popular among the children. The poetry lover used to described him as “A Gem of a peasant poet”.
Below, the last poem of Yesenin was written with his blood before he hanged himself (his death story is not true nor confirmed as a suicide recital).

Farewell, my good friend, farewell.
In my heart, forever, you’ll stay.
May the fated parting foretell
That again we’ll meet up someday.
Let no words, no handshakes ensue,
No saddened brows in remorse, –
To die, in this life, is not new,
And living’s no newer, of course.

Still, his one of the poems tells us how a young woman of a village in mid-summer gives birth to a baby. It travels to emotion that awaken us into a series of joyous feelings. Also, this poem had written in 1912 and was translated into English in 1982

Poem: "Barefoot" by Sergei Yesenin

Barefoot on Midsummer Eve in the forest yonder
Mother went with skirt tucked up in the dew to wander.
Her bare feet were stung by herbs blessed with magic power,
In the meadow grass she wept, painful was that hour.
Suddenly, she cried aloud, pain her body shaking,
Down she lay and on the spot gave birth to a baby.
I was born to sound of song, meadow grass tucked around me.
In a rainbow bright the sun every morning bound me.
Child of rural summer rites I grew wiser, bolder.
Magic-making eventide happiness foretold me […]

The suicide story of Yesenin is still an unsolved matter of conflict. His work was banned in the country for many years.

Also, Read Poem: “If You Were One Inches Long” By Shel Silverstein and Melancholy Life: Amy Levy Couldn’t Survive “Double D” War