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James Bond 007 No time to die 2020 Daniel Craig, Rami Malek

Trailers for May 2020

Anna Polibina-Polansky

Our epoch lasts until we create films and festivities. It is not going to be up copied, repeated or reminded. 515 of my films (including shortcuts and arthouse) are finished up with a movie of my half-uncle Micelangelo Antonioni and his Italian filmography. Tonino Guerra was also amongst my acquaintances of the last century, but Antonioni and Pazolini are of unique meaningfulness to my genres. Anna Polibina-Polansky. *****

Experimental shortcut films by Anna Polibina-Polansky, a filmmaker originating from Moscow, are characterized by the genre-and-thematic novelty and by the fresh tools for embodiment of  the plot. Anna screens films of the silver age of the Russian poetry (predominantly in English, at her own equity-rhythmic stanzas), of oriental and country-discovering subjects, of half-forgotten talented people and their lost estates in Russia, of Russian and European monasteries of the 16-17th centuries. Her films embrace a gamma of plots and protagonists, of stylistic manners and metaphoric gadgets. They are up screened in English, French, Italian, Russian and Spanish. Anna translates poetry into English and French, from Arabian, Persian, Turkish, Italian, Russian, Spanish.

Among her characters, there are: Dickinson, Pozzi, Pluth and Sexton, Verlaine and Baudlaire, Dali and Eloire, Appaulinaire, Prevert and de Nerval, Yeats and Keats, Byron and Coleridge, Machado and Lorca, Neruda and Ibanez, G.-A.Becquer and J.Updike, R.Stone and Tr.Capote, T.Williams, Cavafis and Elitis; nearly every representative of the Russian silver age in poetry, including the poetic followers of Akhmatova and her envvironment...'

She organizes demonstrations of her films, for various audiences, in Europ, Asia, Africa, Latin America, Australia (nerly worldwide). The most  Nothern, Arctic areas are of her special interest (because of mixed Arabian-Aleutan ancscestry). She has shown her poetic (lyric) films-essays in Poland, Germany, Russia, France, Switzerland, Italy, Malta, so far. She is waiting for invitations of her thematic movie programs to your  area (she takes no fee for shwings themselves, the demonstrations are totally altruistic). She propagandizes acute feeling for istory, genres of arts, creative personalities - artisans for those genres.

Anna Polibina-Polansky is a script writer, a director and an organzer for the video rows of her films-essays. She has gathered crops of diplomas, grand-prix and golden statues of international film festivals (in Moscow, New York, Paris, Valette, Strasbourg, Berlin, Basel) for her experimental films, so far. Her monocineartstudio has existed for 15 years already; it is simultaneously a lab for her genres and stylistic manners.

Currently Anna screens up plots at the genre of Oriental poetic-and-experimental films. She has issued 60 shortcut (from 10 up to 30 minutes, the length of each) over a variety of themes, starting from the Middle Sea and Maghreb to Tibetan India, Mongolia, Japan and Korea. Actually genuine orientalists at the cinematograph of nowadays are very few. They stick to their former genre techniques and cultivate fresh stylistics due to the subtle visual and verbal practices of the traditional East. Anna's themes profoundly correlate with the history of Arabian countries and of the Far East. She introduces her plots, protagonists and themes at a variety of European ans Asian festivals, as those works have a lot to do with medieval history and the genre scale.

I ASK A BIT OF YOUR ATTENTION, CO-THINKERS, COLLEAGUES, GENRE WORSHIPERS, CRYTICISTS AND VIEWERS! Several postards with self-announcements for my genre works have completely and irrevocably disappeared from this site. You cannot enjoy my works, in a gamma of hues and at verbal colors, anymore. Obviously this sphere of the site (a layer) was seld off to thieves and marrodeurs, sort of criminals. Otherwise, this loss cannot be explained. I offer the former rulers to give up the false services of doubtful newcomers who have got nothing to do with arts and genre cinema, as it is. The competence of former masters (C.Robillard, Br. Chatelin) was ignorantly rejected. I offer to my European colleagues to discharge the presence of those newcoming criminals. If you appreciate my genres and works, deny the presence of this cut-off site in your life of Inet-users. Artful matters have disappeared with grest filmmasters of the prior epoch. Anna Polibina-Polansky

23.11.2019 My feature video reports (colorful narratives in English and French) from artful festivities and video rows of local (Moscow) festivals are now a part of video reality. Emily Dickinson, Zurab Tsereteli, the silver age poets and artists now have become my protagonists, as well as Antonia Pozzi, Salvador Dali, Paul Valerie, Virginia Wolfe  and Anne Sexton. My character, Anna Akhmatova, received her laureate's prize from the hands od Ernst the Unknown and L.G.Parfyonov. So the outer destinies of my protagonists grow to become another reality and an independent life.

My genres greatly vary, and the stylistics for videorows changes depending at the theme. Authenticity correlates to life prospective of the protagonist. The theoretical scale goes tightly alongside with the practical angle for the theme and the style. Anna Polibina-Polansky, Moscow, +7-925-331-2422.

Poetizing by Anna Polibina-Polansky

*** Another wintry season here in Russia.

Snegurochka is given here, for Masha.

So we are talking of another season.

The dome of heavens is cut up by scissors.

I think up riddles   and discounted prices.

It is yet less that no will or crisis.

Up blended, foamy splinters come to ices.

So fleas are equitated to black lice, yet.

 I spend another winter at the Black Sea...

It is enough not to look up at taxes,

Nor to diminishing of sums and incoms.

The nature does repose. The beach is stinking.

There have been winters, better, softer, lighter,

This season, as I render now, for righteous.

Remarkable aer thighs and knees and ankles.

But I dream, for the most, of storms and ankors.

November, 2019; the Crymea 


The tankard of the sun

Is getting multiplied.

It takes years, to get sunk.

The sea game isn't light.

The tar of arrows red

Are coming from beyond.

Deep sorrows, tears, regrets.

The bad comes at a bond.

Get tanned at orchards' bloom..

Pich up a nosegay...

The spring is such a loom:

For your eyes, here's a game!

*** New England, what a mixture!

Though tarnished is the picture.

The "hollandaise" fair tales

Are all for nightingales.

Immaculate are sphynxes

Of Russia. Goes ink, off.

The birds of upper latitudes!

Oh, fabulous is their entity!

Moths are all equalized

With crickets telling lies.

Great lakes reproach the bays:

The pain, it looks, off pays!

Of timber, stocks and bridges:

For epochs, they serve, ridges.


My Maltese Mosaics

By Anna Polibina-Polansky

The Ambracian Gulf lies by the Ionic Sea.

The syrocco wind throws out its blooming seeds.

Afterwards, there will be yet another spring.

That is what the wind is daring to bring.

Stanzas of the Rothshields come out to the Naples.

So go destroyed the ancient chapels.

So by violin players the notes are prefelt.

So the conches and shellfish, in grades, go smelled.

So Byron walks Boracca gardens and villas.

So Phoenician orchards go grown with pynias, tuyas and willows.

November 2014, Malta - November 2019, Moscow

Una messa a Micelangelo Antonioni

The mess of Grana, one by Liste.

A cry. Adventure. Night. Eclypse.

Red desert lies ahead, ahead...

Zabriski-point. And female cats.

The league of herzogs, sacred dukes.

Pontano's lines can't be rebuked.

Oh, Saint Amrogio, Sforzesco.

Un'allegoria, grotesco.

Well, Pomponazzi e Ponquelli.

Milano, Ponti, Son Pirelli.

O Anyadelle and Ravenna,

O Specia, o shades and veins blue.

Take the initial - I'll turn

A serpent. All in vain, its spurns.

Toscana's victimizing blank,

Your fan is so of visual prank.


* At a View of a Lagoon and Judecca

                     By Anna Polibina-Polansky (Malta-Moscow)

Lagoons are where eyes sojourn now.

Oh Thunderstorm, one of Giorgione.

Oh Tintoretto's proud kopts.

The faces of efebos join it:

"O, per piacere!" Take it hot!

San Marco. Porticus. Arcada.

The speel San Giorgio, in dark.

Of waves Judeccian, ruladas

Are heard, as if Paul's dogs do bark.

Academy, Korrer, Ka d'Oro.

Malicious Campanilla, doze!

Quadriga, amplify the horror!

These are the masks, to be  exposed.


Sottovoce: una nipota de Micelangelo Antonioni

Che e passato e perche? Che cosa?

Il verso e sonoro e merviglioso.

Il Mortola, fortezza con il Duomo.

Airole, San Philippo, San Giacomo.

A Balci Rossie sobre la rocca -

O, io sonno ci, con una mocca.

Gli versi mi dirige la, al passo.

E io adesso sonno, mia frasa.

Val Nervi, Ventimiglia e Riviera -

Rivieraa dei fiori, Bordighera.

Ospidaletti e Bayardo, Pinya.

Giovanni Prati, Cieriana, Vinya.

Il Sanctuario della donna dell'Rovere.

Diano, Ciervo, Remo, Bodighera.

Verdegia, Loreto e Triora.

Bartolomeo - il rovere d'oro.

Oneglia, San Giovanne - Maraliano.

La ciesa San Batist' Agostiani.

Pornaccio, Torria, Piev' di Teco.

Diano Arentino, Ciusaveccia...

La villa Belveder, la cass' Faraldi.

Bajardo, Apricale, Perinaldo.

L'estate pontedacio riscaldo

Gle ovre - Maraliano e Cambiaso...

Imperia Onelia, Pontedassio.

Trekkani, Agienori e Savino.

Molini di Triora, Pantasina.

Canzone dell'afisha Aristona.

San Remo, Liguria di Madonna.

Anna Polibina-Polansky, Gli imagi d'Antonioni (Mosca-Malta)

Let us support the creative crew of Bruno et Clarisse, our colleagues, for each of their actions and ideas. Mr Bruno Chatelin and Mlle Clarisse Robillard, je suis avec vous! Anna Polibina-Polansky

I have seen purely hostile personalities who serve me opponents (probably bribed by Russians and former Russians). I wonder if I can help Bruno and Clarisse at their wavy route towards truth. Keep all your laureate's prizes and annulate those ones that were forced out away from you! The Hage and Strasbourg are alongside with us! To Bruno Ch-n and our co-thinkers. Social belonging means little at our way to fair awarding. I consider primarily my screen works, as my posessment and grand-prix for my lasting work and for my long experience at genres. The rheuthorics is simplistic: the aesthetic status of each work would be re-considered, and statues would be alienated. It is no good for white Easterners (i.e. Russians) to grab diplomas and statues from those ones who upplanedly deserve them for the offered material. The first page ought to be dismissed and totally revised. It is shameful to let into the conference those ones who keep the basic editor entangled. I keep the principle of liberty at any angle of aesthetics, and cheap prizes serve only provocative material for half-priced up screened canvas. Legitimate liberty ought to be universal and non-victimizing. The nation of francophones (Galles) have every trump for establishing policy, and violent actions in cinema are beforehand prohibited. Anna.

However unfortunate, we end up at a discordant note. In our epoch a conglomerate of respected film festivities can be rudely alienated and neglected by outer characters, unexplainably and chaotically, out of jealosy. Who hinders you to give basement to the festivity at your climate zone? Huh? Even the prises of Cote d'Azurre generally widely spectated can go to sporadic troops. It is yet hard to trust that Scorcese (the only up split face) in the context of postmodernity yet reveals the ethnic facade forr the genre.  Other characters of minor impact insult the tropheys of postmodernism at a smaller scale. So it sounds from here.

It is obvious that "The Sin", a cheap chronical immitation by K*, was directed for Rome, and they sent them a variant. However, his concession for the theme is visible. How can he prove that Micelangelo lived for marble, not for flesh? K* is a strict, let him out! Chamaeleonic smirks of an aged comic doesn't do! Queers also may keep to marriages, and no aged comic pretending to be a fashionable quibble may prove the opposite. Get away with the entire layer. Who let him into Rome? He was acclaimed to meet Tallinn nights with his hat on and to dream of Bertolucci and Pazoini, at least. A French lady Gagarina gave him too much chances. An abominable figure.

"The Carmine Frescoes of Joseph Brodsky: the Venetian Sheen" (2012). A Poetic film by Anna Polibina-Polansky. Prizes 2014-16: Nice, Sundance, the Cannes, Venetian Biennale.

"Overcoming the Name of Darkness" (2011), a poetic film by Anna Polibina-Polansky; in memory of O.S.Beglov, a missionary at Malta; 2015; probably (a Sicilian festivity).

"I Give My Voice For Hopes and Mirth" ("Всё-ничего_0002") - a poetic dedication to my co-thinker and colleague, Mnsr Bruno Chatelin, a film cryticist and a festival organizer (the Cannes), currently victimized by Russian barbarians at cinema.

"That Scarce Creation Wounded With the Sense" (a film-essay of Marc Aldanov, a portraitist of Paul the First), 2012, directed and created by Anna Polibina-Polansky, Moscow - Malta; devoted to the French creators of film premiums at the Cote d'Azure. Firstly noted at the Tribeca Cinema, Manhattan, New York, in the year 2012.

"Poetic Cavafiana: the True Price of the Transgression" (of Cavafis, the best poetician of Brodsky). Firstly told of at the Moscow Embassy of Greece in 2017. Director-essayist for the movie - Anna Polibina-Polansky (Moscow).

"The Vague Harbor of the Redemption" (a colorful poetic film in English, two-parted), author - Anna Polibina-Polansky (Moscow), of Brodsky.Both sides of the Atlantic ocean granted diplomas to this film (2011).

"L'ange que peut amorcer mes espoires" (2018; regisseur-essayist - Anna Polibina-Polansky). Nice - 2109.

Poetic Films (court metrage)  by Anna Polibina-Polansky for "Le Marcher des Filmes aux Cannes - 2019".

"Dove siamo?" (Locarno - 2019).

""De tout ou bien de rien" (Mostra del cinema - La biennale veneciano). (an English movie and a poetic script by Anna Polibina-Polansky). Rotterdam; Santa Monica - 2019.

"Sans tes yeux" (Aspen Films - 2019), aprove par maestro  Charles Aznavoure a l'annee 2013, a Paris.

"Les couleurs et les gouts" (au style du siecle 19). Kustendorf.

"Avec les larmes" (Fantaspro)

"Un regard" (San Sebastian)


La joie est nait avec mes yeux...

En surcoit, votre vis, monsieur!

Million regards, million baisees,

Mille emotions - et c'est assez!

Au theatre, a la variete -

Bien sure, je peut dire que j'etait.

Les masques, les robes et les voiles -

Les gens vivent a la belle etoile.

Nous somme derriere, a fin du siecle -

Au centre de Paris, en regle.

On bon annee, mes chers amis!

Deja, c'est once et demi.

Les ombre de la balle sont partouts,

Loins et proches et desparus...

Les fleuves des garlandies, mon choix...

La vie vient a peur et a joie.

C'est ne q'un nouveau mais depat.

Ver le present - et quelques pas.

Souvent L'hiver

Aime de prier.

On ne joue pas avec les chers!

Les amoreux reprendent le tout.

La terre respire, le vent est doux.

L'Hiver prends de la vie, du coeur.

J'ai le besoin a cette blanche soeur!

Merci a Miguel et Corine de N-a pour le sujet! Moscou, Anna Polibina-Polansky

-Il inverno rafretto -

Buon Natale compresso

Nel tempo e nello spazio! Uno diverso dall'altro.

Non si puo recitare -

Gli versi per gle bambini.

E richiesto, devono usare -

La maschera attoriale

                    non puo bastare, -

Far passare -

La vita: non cambiando nulla. Del spirito - e un salto.

Ogni segue i fili della propianesistenza.

Nessuno assomiglia all'altro, massi o mini...


- Commemorando di Dario Fo -

Uno dei capolavori

Dei cuori -

Di andare oltre -

La forza.

La proprieta e venduta.

Giutto, mio giutto!

Mia principessa,

Della vista e del discorso!

Giutto, lei e conosciuto.

Coppla aperta a grand' amore?!

Un riso contagioso e l'impareggiabile,

Il Dio e il diavolo.

El Linguaggio del regista e del Artisto,

La Buffonade d'esse un sposo.

Sposate l'anima al giullari...

Sonno con Lei, mii cari!

2019, Mosca



Verses in old-styled  ivrite by Anna Polibina-Polansky

Lahoma? Effafa, hahamim!


Lo ra, lo ra!


Tavi lanu la menorA

V'la sefer.



Naim meod!

Le hitra'ot.

Tshuva, utfila, ucdaka.

Shena metukA.


Al ezrah!

Todah rabah!

Ma in'yanim?

Al ha panim?

Lehahir naim!


Shomer mitsarot nafsho!


Shtika - syag lahomA!

Hag sameah!

Shimri al atsmah!

Tsedek tirdof. Yihye tov.

Shalom uvraha!

Al tadik et haverhA...

GdolA tsdakA.

Eyn somhin al anEs.

Al tidag - tidagA. MarbE kehasim - deagA...

Tova benaA umatimA. MarbE hohmA!

Tavi lanU - Hashbon, AvinU!

Et lehEm hukeinU!

Bazman azE -

Shum davAr zE.

Mar, kama zman ata ba Arets?

2020, Moscow

***MOre of Poems in Ivrite, by Anna Polibina-Polansky

- Lo BasmAn AzE - (Not in Our Days)

Ase lehA sefEr -

UkmE lehA havEr...




Lo deagA...


Al tadIk et haverhA...


Aem bayamIm

Aya al anisIm...

- Ani nesuA - (I am married)

- Ma inyanIm?

Asa lehA hahamIm -


Ad meA veesrIm.

AnI yodeAt al anisIm.


BeezrAt pashEm...

Hag sameah!

Toda, Mashiah!

ItgaagAti elEha.



Yey ratsOn milefane-ha.

Toda rabah!

Toda al' ezrah!

MarbE yeshivA -

Tavi lanutshuvA.


Hevanti et haverhA.

2020, the City of Moscow

*** dait haverha - hahamim: reahein... al azaaru

(two wise interlocutors: colors of words)

An Excerpt in Hebrew, by Anna Polibina-Polansky

Ma inyanim, hahamim?

Al ha panim!

Naim lehakir, emir!


Al tadik et haverha...

Al reahein leitvakeah.

Hag sameah, hag sameah!

YeshivA - ur'e gdolA v'aguelA.

Esh li osher.

En li osher. Eizeu osher?

Shomer osher - shomer

Al deagA.

Syag lahoma - shtikA.

Al tidag.

Shimri al atsma.

Be Allah.

Et hakol' - ak.

Yitkadesh shimA!

Leets ehad... loleahbirA,

dirA tovA veneA umatimA.

Tov maavrim et rOa agzerA.


Naim meod!

Gam. Be haver adam... ur'e. UtsdakA!

UvrahA, lo deagA.


- BehatslahA! Yitkamdesh shimha!

- Ma shlomha?

- Lyo tov misman. V'azE basman.

- Tov shem - ester al Betlehem!

Yei ratsOn milefanEha.

- Tavo mal'kuteha...

2020, Moscow














Lyrix in Ivrite by Anna Polibina-Polansky. Yadida Yafa

By Anna Polibina-Polansky "A Rehearsal of an Orchestra" and Other Excerpts 1. Mangina Menatseah. Tohen, dmut. Masah. Olam, tsofim, bama. Allahumma! Mangina, kinor, psanter. Makhela, ulil', kol'. Tmuna hakol'! Tsofim, kahal'. Mazal', mazal'! Mehaber, tohen, dmut. Zemer - rikud. Tmuna - sifrut. ManginA, kol', tav Anu - tsofim. Geshem me - shamayim! 2. Mezeg avir Esh, kerah. Shamayim, rtsah. Kor, geshem, arafel'. Or, hosheh, tsel'....

My Fresh Poetry's Translations from Brodsky

By Joseph A. Brodsky The English Poetic Renditions, by Anna A. Polibina-Polansky *** A Part of Speech ("Ya ne to chto s'hozhu s uma, no ustal za leto...") I do not get mad, but rather, for the summer, defatigated. So you flip through the wardrobe, and the day is done. So let the wintry season coming, neagate them, Cities, mankind, but especially, the leaves' rattling tongue. I will go to sleep in all garments or read someon's book from behind. So the remnant...

La Valetta: at a Cape. A Poetic Excerpt by Anna Polibina-Polansky

La Valetta: at a Cape By Anna Polibina-Polansky A Phoenician lady sitting at "Vecchia Napoli", With a paper and a cigarette. The cape reminds an apple cut. The night is rattling with waves; Magnolia in twelve shades, meekly raves. So the tyres whistle along the ideal British pavement. Palms resurrect ghosts. The reality is kept safe, yet. The scraps of dreams are absorbed By overcrowded, multi-tongue embankment, and the sails remind swords. The masts whisper lullabies to the ...

The English Poetic Renditions of Lyrix

By Igor Guberman The English Poetic Renditions of Funny Stanzas, by Anna Polibina-Polansky (The Renditions Have not Been Yet Authorized, as the Author Is Kept in Jerusalem) *** I reek along at disputes violent, To hide away the pang of foam. In no idea, I keep silence. I am calm, if, I clearly know.   *** And yet, I haven't grown smarter. I grew indifferent, instead. I lie in smiles, I have a gut, yet. I sha...

My Poetic Reel in Italian (over a Known Tune)

Here is my Italian poetic text (proofread by two native speakers) of the year 2013, over a known tune: Warm welcoming, Italian poetry estimators. The language of Dante and Petrark, Saba and Antonia Pozzi, in uptodate metaphors. I devote my Italian allegories in classic stanzas, to my husband.   ...

My English Versified Renditions out of Brodsky

By Joseph A. Brodsky The English Poetic Renditions, by Anna A. Polibina-Polansky *** ("Voskhodyaschee zhyoltoe solntse sledit kosymi...") The ascending sun casts orange shades, followed by The eyes aslant, the masts of the naked ticket. So the Baptismal frost is ahead, and the wintry peak spies For the Japanese war's waves, severe and wicked.   Oh, the round-Earth navigation ought to be ended up. Bend your hand in the elbow. Burn away the dreadnote, in the chimney-pl...

My Another English Poetic Rendition from Brodsky

By Joseph A. Brodsky  The English Poetic Translation, by Anna A. Polibina-Polansky *** At a Friend's Death ("Imyareku, tebe, - potomu chto ne stanet za trud...") To you, so-called, this way, as it won't be worthy of efforts To draw you, so, from under the stone. I'm nameless and true. So one will be erased from the marble, as it can't be shattered. I'm beyond, outside, I am too far away, so obtrudes No voice, from the silence. The parable Northern, jus...

The Fresh English Poetic Renditions out of Brodsky (two out of three of them)

By Joseph A. Brodsky The English Poetic Renditions, by Anna A. Polibina-Polansky *** ("Topilas' pech'. Ogon' drozhal vo t'me...") The oven kept its fire, in the night. The coal was of sparks - the stirring vessel. But thoughts of wintry seasons were at sight, So oddly fluttering, and of access, so. Oh what should be the sadness that instead Of parks nearby, you do recall the dim land That disappeared! Weaves the distant thread, Revising, and rewarding, and re...

My Freshest Poetic Translations out of Brodsky

By Joseph A. Brodsky The English Poetic Translations by Anna A. Polibina-Polansky *** A Sketchery ("Holui tryasyotsya, rab hohotchet...") A servant trembles. Slaves are chuckling. A killer sharpens iron sickles. A tyrant tortures rivals buckled. The wintry moon is sparkling meekly. It's an ill glimpse of homeland's fortune. A soldier does torment a virgin. An aged lady scratches thighs. A pupil, for an old view, spies; It bears its unearthly burden. The dog barks, ...

My Newest Poetic Translations out of Brodsky

By Joseph A. Brodsky The English Poetic Translations, by Anna Polibina-Polansky *** ("Vosslavim prihod vesny! Opolosnyom litso...") Let us exhault the spring's coming. Followingly, we will wash The face with creosote, we will burn up the pimples. We will come at a thin shirt, outside onto the porch. The squash Of air and horizon will strike the out coming people. The future fills up the lungs like the soil of seeds, Like the voices - of hospitality and sweet joy. Hither an...

Yet More of Poetic Reels by Anna Polibina-Polansky

Three more poetic reels in English, by Anna Polibina-Polansky, of great European  lyricists of the beginning of the 20th century. Cavafis (the best poet of Brodsky), Gippius and Blok.          (postures for April, the 20th, 2020). Warm Welcoming Like Always, viewers and estimators, amateurs and connoisseurs. ...

Anna Polibina-Polansky and Her Fresh Reels

New themes have come up! Warm welcoming, viewers! In order to venerate the Holy Week. "Caravaggio and Caruani": ancient spiritual  legends and how they are revealed nowadays. A poetic reel by Anna Polibina-Polansky, one filmed by the author, in Malta (in Russian verses): A poetic shortcut film dedicated to the personality of Joseph Brodsky (part 1), by Anna Polibina-Polansky. A poetic film of Sicilia, by Anna Polibina-Polansky. www.facebook.c...

# Again, out of Joseph Brodsky

By Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Translations, by Anna Polibina-Polansky "1972. To Victor Golyshev: an Excerpt" ...What I could lose, is lost now, almost cheerfully, At a rough measure, reached is all, nearly. What was prescribed, I approached, dear me! Those cuckoo's sounds late, no one's counting. All the existence lies up lied by gossipers; Justified is, by aging, what causes pang. Hearing all, what was meant for up voicing, now Is for that shee...

# Out of Joseph Brodsky. The English Versified Translations

By Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Renditions, by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * I once entered instead a wild beast, into a cell. I burned up my nick name and my term with a nail,drown. At a ditch of the jail. Of a gambling tough, at a seashore, I felt the smell; I had lunches with one never knows whom, with a frock at my back; I inhaled Icy avalanches, from a peak, watching a half of the world. Twice I was cut up at two, and thrice I got drown. So I left the country that had fed me u...

# Out of Joseph Brodsky. His Lyrics at My English Translations

Out of the Poetic Volume "Hosanna to My Anguish" by Anna Polibina-Polansky Out of Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Renditions, by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * A Part of Speech ...With the word "upcoming", out of the Russian speech true, There run away mice, they are at their minor roles. So they gnaw out a piece of the memory, those cunning creatures, At the fat cheese, they make some enormous holes. After many a year, it makes no difference what (What or, ratther, ...

# Out of my Translations from Brodsky for the Year 2010

By Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Translations, by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * An Extract. To M.B. It's afternoon. November. From the wind, Just naked trees, defended are, somehow. Whose flesh is covered up, one's trembling here. Along the columns, I do keep my pace. The glass of palaces exhalts the sunset And doves which are, so evenly, up gathered About the weighing chalice of some blinded goddess; The cup is full of butts, up to its rim. The ancient watch does show us t...

# Extracts from My Poetic Volume "Hosanna to My Anguish"

By Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Translations by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * In order to spatter the grief due, With hollow, light-headed, sweet words, The life of a poet - I'm leading. Of course, this strange life may not hurt.   In order, to see, at a window, Some face, after shouts "farewell"... No matter that smiles are nt sweet so, - I'm eager, my fortune to tell.   Just at the dawn of the existence, Of movements, with God all at sight, I'...

# Out of My Poetic Volume "Hosanna to My Anguish"

By Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Translations, by Anna Polibina-Polansky The Epigraph: I made contents of jails. To their greatest singer, As I had grown there, I offered my last cigar. * * * I'd not choose an exile sweet, Nor a graveyard that dark. The Vassilyevsky Island, Greet my death with a spark. You would not face my figure, You would not meet my youth. 'Mong the lines getting bleaker, Sidewalks, prompt me the truth!   Infatiguable souls All make haste, ...

# Two More of My Poetic Renditions from Joseph A. Brodsky, a Nobeli Laureate

By Joseph A. Brodsky The English Poetic Renditions, by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * The Piers of Fagherdala The trees whistle about at night, at the shore of a strait. It looks as if it is drizzling, though it's late. Willow-trees, speaking nothing of pine-trees, Do not try to recognize themselves at frequent waves. The sheen is sharp like a needle, it's of no stark creed Towards the horizontal water, accurately up shaved. At surface, lurk the world's reminders. So the slee...

# Out of Brodsky: Three English Poetic Translations by Anna Polibina-Polansky

By Joseph A. Brodsky The English Poetic Translations, by Anna Polibina-Polansky Ritratto di donna ("Zhenskiy portret") The portrait is stale, withered, like a bunch In her hands. Lies do touch the up craved future. Dark eyes watch just tomorrow, not confused, yet. The vases at the arch, are her long puns. The folders of the mouth, of organza Remind a curtain twinkling. Tools for walking Are closed at her fluffy angle lurking. So for a Prophet, she is not bizzare. The twinkli...

Out of Vyacheslav IvAnov

By Vyacheslav Ivanov The English Poetic Translation, by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * ("Evropa. Utra hmuriy holod...") Oh, Europe! It's cold is gloomy. It walks and frowns darkened brows. By Cyclopes, so, the Hammer's loosened And Gothic churches fly in rows.   Oh Russia, widening are rails; Along the snow, drawn are knots. Along a path, the chains yet whail, Along the path of roaming lots.   Oh sod, the oceans' foam is grey, The bones of mounts are ...

# My Two Poetic Renditions from Brodsky

By Joseph Brodsky The Poetry Translation into English, by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * Six Years Later ("Tak dolgo vmeste prozhili, chto vnov'...") We'd lived together, dear, for so long, That January, the second fell at Thuesday, Again. Amazed, the wipers sung their song. The going sadness was brief and confusing. The distant contours were left truly pure. All was habitual, prepared, endured.   The snow seemed, to fall forevermore. My palm allowed her to esca...

# My New English Renditions out of Poetry by Joseph Brodsky

Poetry by Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Translations, by Anna Polibina-Polansky Love: Justifications ("Ya dvazhdy probuzhdalsya etoy noch'yu...") I got awakened twice, inside the gloom. I made my way to windows enlightened. An extract of a phrase addressed to whom, I'd not have told... The silence - filled the room. I wasn't, yet, consoled. The night got tighter.   I dreamed of you, that pregnant. Therefore We actually had parted. I am blaming Myself. T...

# Two More of My Poetic Renditions from Brodsky

By Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Renditions, by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * An Up Loaded Trolley ("Skrip teleg tem sil'ney...") So coaches and trolleys all were squeaking - The more, the denser grew the shadows long. The path in wheats was all in briars, weak so. The squeaking grew with that malicious song. To woods, were coming those ways, through pastures. The wind gave such a generous, wide gesture. The beeches and the birches trembled swifter. The pile of stems ...

# Yet Other Stanzas Out of Brodsky

By Joseph Brodsky The English Poetic Rendition, by Anna Polibina-Polansky * * * ("Я слышу не то, что ты говоришь, а голос...") I hear not what you speak of, but, rather, a voice. I watch not your garments, but the even surface of a snow-white. It's a pole where we sit, not a room, and I would rejoice The face that, by our traces, is lead away from chilly notions. Once I knew by heart, all hues of the scope. Now my spectrum is totally white, baf...

About Anna Polibina-Polansky