Instead of prayer

About the unassembled book of verses by Anna Sad Shah

Anechka and I (for some reason called her everything, she herself was surprised) for many years they were going to make a poetic book for two. Such a lyrical dialogue consisting of poems or devoted to each other, or written about each other. There should have been there works created jointly - mainly ironic (well, the poetic libretto of the Doctor Zhivago, also written in four hands).

This book did not even have to write - only to collect what has accumulated over many years of life together. And so they were collected ...

Anechka became my most terrible loss, but was happiness. She left suddenly, instantly. She wanted to do much more - both in prose and in the cinema. Well, her poetry was written like a true poet. Moreover, with incisions, several poems at the same time.

Yevtushenko, Samoilov, Lisnyanskaya, Rhine, Sapgir, Rassadin wrote about her. Stanislav Borisovich, in particular, spoke of her "high level of moral claims."

And what first comes to my mind when I think about her poems? Anin's voice is recognizable, it does not look like anyone. She never dealt with translations of ready meanings. Poems for her were the main tool for self -awareness and peace. It was thanks to her that I understood the mysterious definition of Mandelstam: “Poetry is a sense of innocence” ...

But I am not yet able to write about Anechka, her poems and prose anyway. When I can, I don't know. Therefore, I simply quote her poem, which our common-dialogue book could end with her.

Instead of prayer

Fourth day for trifles

Not angry

Thank you for everything or is silent ...

I don't understand - his sick heart

Why do you need it?

Let yourself knock.

Why do you need such a stubborn poor

You won't suffer damage without him

There you have enough interlocutors

Here, with me, just - you and he.

Let him live here, with me

Slows

And, like a child, he bubbles the foam of days ...

There, you are going to! -

And older,

And more beautiful,

And smarter.

No later than 2009

This Anechkin prayer seemed to be heard. Unlike mine, where there are such words:

Forgive me, God,

Immediately throughout the life of all.

The one who is more expensive,

Do not take it, don't laugh! ..

However, it dared ... it happened on February 11. March 22 is already forty ...

Oleg Khlebnikov

She returned the speech to hundreds of thousands of women

From the preface to the collection of poems by Anna Sad Shah "I was met by clothes"

The book of the verses of Anna Sad Shah “I was met by clothes”-I will not hide-I was struck. <...>

The lines that open the first section of the book “... Lord, I'm so afraid of you that I forget to love with fear” - are phenomenal in their almost Khayyam laconicism and under Tyutchev’s tragedy.

Poems about a man who sleeps nearby, defenselessly and at the same time frighteningly:

... for what you are so sad,

animal longing for small

And the blood call

And this shelter,

and snoring, frightening enemies,

And the flight of the legs under the covers? ..

- This is the first time aloud the dumb confession of hundreds of thousands of women, so frightened by us, men. Anna Sad Shah returned them to them through her mouth.

“If I were a dead man, you would close my eyes to me so that you wouldn’t see who I would have pierced it to death.” The ingenious neologism “overlined”, grown from folklore. Such a word could come up with only one other woman-poet, and which-you yourself will guess. I do not want to bring Anna with such high comparisons so that they do not cut from envy.

What a rabid energy, reaching the lines “When I sharpen the Lyasy’s friend, when I eat passion with you, when I fry meat, to pacify my own mouth ...” or “When, having put on my face, I’ll go to business, from a pie and shut my piece, when my soul, flirting with my body, will not want to find out ...”. <...>

But Anna, in addition to the fearlessness of confession, has an animal understanding that sometimes it is necessary to "bite the tongue with dignity." In this, I completely agree with Rassadin, who wrote that Anna "yelled to poetry."

Evgeny Yevtushenko

Anna Sad Shah

Staying alive

***

Here is the father on the knees of the grandfather,

This is me on my father's knees

This is my son in my arms.

This is a grandson on his son's knees,

This is a son’s son from a grandson,

This is his grandson on his shoulders

This ... that would be it! - Let without

sound,

In the prohibitives to see the rays.

***

And again I am struggling with victories

And I buried the losses in the ground.

God,

I'm so afraid of you

I forget what to love with fear.

***

Nobody goes to visit,

Nobody knocks something into the soul,

And no one will die from you

Because no one will be born.

Gloomy snow was the cities,

No harm from him, no self -interest ...

Like lively, water froze

And lies in a wooden trough.

***

Married man -

Always unlucky

He himself admits, they say, I am an idiot.

He collects bravely on his forehead

wrinkles,

Looking at the shyly when he leads by the arm.

And everything thinks the Duma; What if he had lost

Well, still ... maybe ...

somewhere-

there?...

He is in the evening - to heaven, and in the morning - to hell,

And on weekdays and on a holiday - always

To blame.

And therefore is so zealous in bed -

He wants everyone to forgive him at once.

He is on fire

He cries in a dream

Poor-poor married man

A man married to me.

***

-Mommy-mammochka, however,

I will never die -

Who will you stay then?

Aunt Vera - greedy,

Aunt Lyuba - Evil,

Grandpa and grandmother are old,

They do not know anything themselves.

And I will grow up - I will take care.

- Yes, my dear. Sleep.

-Mommy-Mamka, the truth,

Will you never die?

Aunt Vera - greedy,

Aunt Lyuba is evil.

Who will I stay then?

- On a god, dear, sleep.

-God-Bozhenka, however,

You will never die! -

Grandpa and grandmother are old ...

-God-Bozhenka, however,

I will never die.

Who will you stay then?

And I will grow up - I will take care.

***

A day will live.

I did not notice him in a hurry.

The cross from the neck fell -

I did not have time to raise.

It's so easy for me to understand

What is immortality,

If I don't know how to die yet.

I can get sick

Creeping in happiness

From resentment and envy

soak yula

I can from longing

Tear apart

But at the same time always

Staying alive.