The verses of this page are not from youth, from modernity. The blog topic is not suitable, but there is no strength to resist. They touched the soul. I do not know anything about the author of these verses, if you have information or more poems, please share. I read one poem on the forum in classmates with Larisa Bodryakova, found two more in …

Favorite poems of my youth

The verses of this page are not from youth, from modernity. The blog topic is not suitable, but there is no strength to resist. They touched the soul.

I do not know anything about the author of these verses, if you have information or more poems, please share. I read one poem on the forum in classmates with Larisa Bodryakova, found two more on the network.

Supplement (October 2020): Thanks to those who are indifferent, on the site verses.ru now there is a page of Nina Gracheva https://stihi.ru/avtor/grani1

Nina Gracheva

Dear, let me, let me, good,

Become a soven

And sob, so that no one else

I did not call young and beautiful.

So that my hunched camp is burned

White storm and below I bent,

So that until the morning my mother scolds me:

Here, they say, she left and did not return home

So that I will forget your eyes and voice,

Close, acquaintances of their own and domestic,

How she trembled, waited and fought,

As I said about locks and towers,

How was the unaccountable courage,

As in the sky that was impossible, she flew,

How to be loved did not learn

And as Ivo became a weer.

I'm ready to die for you

At least every day and live in the world again,
And on high flame – burn,
And sing, and not dream of summer in winter.
I'm ready for you to be captive
Gorky illusions and always ready
Love your children, your wife,
Your windy word
Ready to draw snow green
And the sky is red and not sleep at night,
Do not think, do not fly, not kiss,
Play with fire and not play – speeches.
Ready my troubles – not to notice,
Tolerate heat, frosts or slush,
And even about love for you – to be silent,
And even smile and not cry.

If I forget about my love,

A passerby will remind me of a random passerby:

Unlucky, hunched over, clouds darker,

So similar to you – similar to the pain.

Or hotly Buran breathes me in the face,

On the cheeks, leaving ruddy roses,

And I will remember how I went to your porch,

And how you despised my letters and tears.

Or a meeting on a wet dog Street

Silently, with a smile to him, I will only stretch out

And suddenly I remember how the Sveta Sveta is now,

How you love dogs, how you … do not love me.

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Comment 51

Poems are very beautiful
But one verse attracted me very much
The fact is that I wrote exactly the same verse
word by word
And now I don't know how to be
This is a verse I'm ready to die for you
What to do help

This poem was written by Nina Gracheva in the 60s. So, a cute girl you definitely could not write it!

Elena, sorry, I can’t help.This poem on the network is found only under the name of Nina Gracheva. If you wrote this poem, how did it get on the Internet and at what time?

For the first time, I read these poems in some magazine or newspaper in 1994-95. (I do not remember exactly). I wrote them into a notebook, I re -read out loud. Very beautiful and penetrating lines, they sink into the soul … and seem to such relatives (their own). Perhaps that is why it seems to someone that they are his. But … they belong to Peru Nina Gracheva … and all of us.

Yes. West was printed for the first time in the journal. Then the first book of Nina Gracheva “The Language of People” was prepared for the publication. Try to find it on the internet. Three poems. Printed above, the most popular of her creations. But Gracheva still has many wonderful poems.

Sorry, how do you know that there are a lot? It seems that everything is lost or stolen …. After all, very many years have passed. If someone was not indifferent …. Sincerely…

I read beautiful, touching my soul about love, I read and cannot read.

I also really like the poems of N. Gracheva, but I climbed on the Internet, and that I was outraged to the core, it is that some young people appropriate the authorship of her works for themselves, there were several people, very ugly and dishonest! I remember these verses by heart from my youth, since the mid -nineties.

She is now seriously ill.
Try to contact her on a Moscow phone:
or address:

Thank you, Pavel. Addin's address and phone number.

Ekaterina, hello! Nina Gracheva’s poems were published in the journal “Peasant woman” 1993, it seems. She cut it out, glued into the album, learned by heart. Since then, since my youth, they have been a sample of a living penetrating syllable for me. Learn bitterly about the author’s serious illness. How can I contact Nina Gracheva? If possible, write on e-mail. Thank you.

Marina, I wrote to you on e-mail

Once upon a time, I glued 4 poems from the publication in the magazine “Peasant Woman in the late 1980s, who bribed me with their sincerity and quietness, or sincere, forgive me for pathos. I hoped that someday I would be able to find more poems by the same author, but alas … neither new poems, nor any information about the author. So many years have passed, and even the notorious Internet does not help. That's why, including for me, the network is not authority and not a panacea, but only a huge landfill of someone’s subjective addictions, judgments, discussions and delusions. So I want to make my contribution.
Three of those poems have already been given here, let me add another poem by Nina Gracheva from that long -standing publication:

***
I am so childishly in captivity
Tenderness for all God's creature
And touch the guitar string,
And I see the sky – the colors of the cinnabar.
And on the feast of the cover, with fire in the blood,
Taking advantage of a rare minute,
I speak with the Earth about love
In the language of my homeland fierce.
And I create a fate for myself in midnight,
Which is akin to a fishing boat,
A heavy fight leading with the sea,
Forest beast and Siberian vodka.

All the best to the author of these lines, and those who like them, still find more works by Nina Gracheva.

As of 09/11/2013 at 15:52 | Reply Blessed Donna (@donna_Lighty)

It is unfortunate that no one else can share some other poems by Nina Gracheva or tell something about her. If Nina (I don’t even know the middle name, but to call it just by the name of a person who is older than me-and also unknown how much, I assume that 10 years or more-somehow embarrassed) is still alive, that is, the opportunity to publish her poems on the Internet- At least on the site verses.ru. If she herself does not know how to handle the Internet or not access to it, then voluntary assistants would not have been found.
Madly, infinitely sorry that such beautiful verses disappear in shamelessness … And everyone who is not lazy ascribes to himself the authorship of beautiful lines, in which someone's soul is invested. It hurts and insulting!

I know only the Moscow address: st. Ak. Scriabin 16-2-113, near the metro Ryazan Avenue.
Nina Vladimirovna Gracheva was born on May 12, 1969 in Moscow.
Maybe someone wants to turn in writing, since she does not owns a computer

4 Poems from the publication in the magazine “Peasant Woman” of the late 1980s …. Straightly, but on page 6 of Eso's poems is interesting, I will print

I will be very grateful to you, and not only me.

year 2013. August. I come to my parents in Ryazan. I take several books and the old magazine peasant, or rather several leaves. I read Nina's poems

Gracheva, I fall into youth. Suddenly he turns the soul, very grateful for the poems … We are all from childhood, and I would say youth …
As you want, let in dreams, have one that will say: I am ready to die for you …
He began to look on the Internet. Found only. https://khola.wordpress.com/ Pastih-no-on-sen
I threw all things and reprint the page. I think that today it will be better for me and readers.
By the way, compare the poems. In the poem Dear, let … on the site is errors, I have the right thing. How can this be?!

The manuscript of the first preparation for printing of the book Nina Gracheva
The language of people at first glance does not quite correspond
this name, because people around us are completely
do not speak with each other on the sublime, and sometimes high
the language of classicism to which these verses are written Book language
At first it seems not the language of people, but the language of books, and even then
written somewhere before the war of the fourteenth year,
now yellowed, collapsed or, conversely, carefully
intertwined in Safyan with flowers. But suddenly breaks into
They are living, today's, suffered, accepted into their souls.
Suddenly after air literary exercises similar to
A light flirty touch to the keys – rude,
tormented. What experience is hidden under the apparent inexperience?
Even love not received from life can be an experience of love.
And then a lot of surprises
Gods, people, nature in bloom,
What did I mutter to them about love,
Leaning into the void…
The language of people is not the language of everyday life, but the language of the unspoken.
Nina Gracheva loves not mirages, but the earth and longing for it.
These are religious verses, when the concept of faith includes nature,
and the feelings themselves, and devotion to poetry. The consciousness of life is
the same God that we are always looking for in the sky.”
Nina Gracheva is 21 years old. Will she become a great poet?
It depends on many things: both on talent and on improvement,
and from the era, and, finally, from fate, which is all together – and talent,
and era. As long as there are talented people and the homeland remains
talented, that is, not yet killed, still fraught with many undiscovered
opportunities.

* * *
In the city maze
when the thermometer is positive,
Street lines are getting softer
and more unsteady
Contrary to February, and the air –
cloudy taste,
And it's easy to get lost in the fog
as in the da Vinci grotto,
And fragments of bottles crunch
underfoot, shining,
And I see paradise lost
where, embarrassed, dumb,
Where is the wicked woman
holding a baby to the chest
Near the beer bar
and the air shines over her,
And this Madonna
no one has sung yet
Because its impossible
come up with such
And, again falling into snowstorms
crankshaft,
In the sticky snow of February
I am heartbroken to the point of pain,
And I get lost in the alleys
on the snow
deliriously delirious,
and merge with the evening mist,
And a random passerby hurts me
in crowd,
Like an angel with a wing
protruding wet field …

I'm so childish in captivity
In tenderness for every creature of God
And touch the guitar string
And I see the sky – the color of cinnabar.
And on the Feast of the Intercession,
– with fire in the blood,
Taking advantage of a rare moment
I speak to the earth about love
In the language of my homeland, fierce.
And at midnight I create my own destiny,
Which is like a fishing boat
Leading a hard fight with the sea,
Forest animal and Siberian vodka.

I'm ready to die for you
Though every day
and live in the world again
And on a high flame – to burn,
And sing, and not dream of summer in winter.

I'm ready for you to be a prisoner
Illusions bitter and always ready
love your children, your wife,
Your every windy word

Ready to paint green snow
And the sky – red and not sleep at night,
Don't think, don't fly, don't kiss,
Play with fire and not play with speeches.

Ready for her troubles – not to notice,
Tolerate heat, frost or sleet,
And even about love for you – to be silent,
And even smile and not cry.

Baby let me
let me good
Stand by the road weeping willow
And sob, so that no one else
I didn't call you young and beautiful.

To my hunched trunk
burned
White storm and below I bent
So that until the morning my mother scolded me:

Here, they say, she left and did not return home
So that I forget my look and voice,
Relatives, friends and family,
How she laughed, waited and fought,
As she spoke of temples and towers,
How extraordinary courage was radiant,
As in the sky that was impossible, she flew,
How to be loved did not learn
And – as Ivo became a weer …

If I forget about my love,
I will suddenly remind me of her
random passerby, –
Unlucky, hunched over,
The clouds are darker – –
You are so similar to you
Similar to pain,
Or hotly Buran breathes me in the face,
On the cheeks, leaving ruddy roses,
And I will remember how I walked to you
on the porch,
And how did you despise my letters
And tears,
Or a meeting on a skinny dog ​​street,
Silently hand with a smile to him
I will stretch only
And suddenly I remember
how bright is now – heaven,
How do you like dogs
How you are me – do not love …

In sadness and in the heat of courtyard.
And in a frantic zak of tavern,
And in the city consumption of fog –
Life is good likely and bitter.
And, if here – among thieves and drunkards,
Where I will keep for disgraces, –
I see a blush on the cheeks of children,
I believe that this is God's light.
And the sun, the beam, gluing, will warm the grandmother,
That drags the load of products for three,
And highlight the frosty armful
Glowing foliage in my hands,
And will highlight a prostitute from the bar,
And in the thick of flower beds – late flowers.
I believe, and they are light and terrible
Look at the world through the eyes of beauty.

The editors of Alexander Klimov based on the materials Peasant women
2013, Ryazan-Kyiv
[email protected]

Thank you, Alexander! Regarding the comparison of the text of the poem, it is quite possible that I have a mistake – because This is a poem from the network, many times rewritten by different people (unfortunately, I have never met the poems of Nina Gracheva in a printed publication).

The last verse instead of …. I will not win for disgraces … I need to keep it for disgrace

An amazing coincidence! Her father, who has not been alive for a long time, was born in the village of Kuzminsky Ryazan region

On 12/27/2013 at 18:22 | Reply Blessed Donna (@donna_Lighty)

Alexander, and you don’t know in which issue of the magazine “Peasant Woman” and what year the publication you cited was? This would help those who wish to find it in some large library and make a photocopy or scan, and just refer to publication in a printed publication, indicating the name of the true author to the plagiars … I am just recently one similar plagiature, who published on my page on the website “Poems . Ru ”Dmitry Filimonov’s poem“ Song of a Secret ”(“ A person has a secret, you don’t have to climb into this secret … ”), forced to remove this stolen poem from the site. I do not like a squabble and squabbles, but such impudent theft cannot be left unpunished.
Only 4 poems fell into my personal poetic collection, since it was they who most of all affected the soul and closest to me by nature. It is simply physically impossible to collect all the poems in the world, so I limit myself to my own subjective addictions. I did not catch inaccuracies in Catherine's poems, since I only have access to the Internet at work and it was not possible to compare poems cut out by me from publication and given on this site.

Peasant woman for November 1990

Thank you, Lyubov Raskina.

“I am ready to die for you …” I pulled out a sheet from the tear-off calendar with this poem somewhere in the early 70s and still keep it and only now I learned the name of the author of such a wonderful poem. Thanks to the Internet and Nina Gracheva. Now I will look for the language of people.

With the book “The Language of People” Nina Gracheva and the preface of Yevgeny Yevtushenko, you can meet on the website https://stihi.ru/grani1/

The book then did not go into print, because influential uncles demanded to remove the initiation and the preface of Yevtushenko, and Nina refused to do this. Subsequently, he placed her poem in his anthology stanzas of the century 1900-2000. …. She was engaged in the literary poetic association of the poet Novikov at some factory …. The next ways I have lost ….

I adore these verses from my youth！ I copied them into my notebook and often read out by them. Clean, sincere and from the heart！

Looking for Nina Gracheva itself – is she alive now or not? What is her fate? It is necessary to save her archive, to publish her collection of poems.

I was personally familiar with Nina Gracheva. After her death, her aunt handed me the collection “The Language of People” in a typewritten form with the review of E. Evtushenko and other verses. I am looking for a person interested in the publication of her poems. Contacts by e-mail: [email protected]

Inna, I'm sorry that he did not answer. I did not go to this site for a long time, because I was desperate to find information about Nina and did not think that someone would answer me here because I asked before, but I was silent. So Nina, my old friend, still died. For me, this news is shock, although it suggested that. I'll try to write to you by mail …. Igor K.

As of 05.09.2019 at 03:24 | Reply
Igor, I am a kettle in 2. I passed almost a month of my text, but no reaction. Something is wrong? Inna

Igor, so you managed to find out when and where is Nina buried? Is there anyone, who can Plmoch in maintaining her heritage? Maybe someone from the literary unification of the poet Novikov, where she was engaged in childhood? Has no one from that group responded? What a pity…

I was personally familiar with Nina Gracheva. After her death, her aunt handed me the collection “The Language of People” in a typewritten form with the review of E. Evtushenko and other verses. Contacts by [email protected]

I was personally familiar with Nina Gracheva. After her death, her aunt handed me the collection “The Language of People” in a typewritten form with the review of E. Evtushenko and other verses. I am looking for a person interested in the publication of her poems. Contacts by e-mail: [email protected]

Dear Inna, I realized that nothing happens.
Maybe you can do something through the site Rider ?
How painful and strange it is all, thank you. Lyuba

I was personally familiar with Nina Gracheva. After her death, her aunt handed me the collection “The Language of People” in a typewritten form with the review of E. Evtushenko and other verses. Contacts by [email protected]

Inna, only now I saw your answer. When did it happen? Where is it buried? Did she have aunt? She had a nephew Alexander. Maybe his wife gave you materials? I am very vain to know the details. I live in another country, at my request they tried to visit it, she did not answer on Tejephon.Tell me please ! My name is Pavel.

These verses were printed in the journal Change in the year 1990 or 91m. If Yana is mistaken, the author’s name is Natalya Danzig. But maybe I'm mistaken …

What verses, Marina?

Archive is published on the site Poems.ru .
Many thanks to Inna and Joseph, who took on such a job.

Thank you, Lyuba, for the link to the site.

Dear poetry lovers,
A collection of poems of Nina is coming soon.
On the issue of acquiring, please go to Joseph on the site Sty0i.ru , who took on such a huge work to preserve the memory of Nina.

Thank you for the publication of poetry on the site. Anyone who did it. The shock from the death of Nina in 2019 I loved her very much as a person.

Igor, condolences to you in your loss.

Igor, in what city do you live? Are there any acquaintances in Moscow who could ask the neighbors about the last days of Nina, to find out the place of the funeral?
It does not fit in my head that the AOT, so a person could die, and no one knows anything.
There are some social services in Moscow, city …, someone buried it, someone lives in an apartment … I myself am in shock, and I don’t understand anything.
The address. St. Academician Scriabin, house 16, building 2, apt. 113, 2nd floor.