Winged expressions about Crimea. Quotes about Crimea. Go through Crimea and Rome
I don't need a compass to face summer.
All sides of Crimea will reveal secrets.
Old stones will tell us myths,
How the Tauri lived here and the Scythians ruled.
All the secrets - from Doros to Theodoro...
Let's start with Chersonesos and end with Bosporus.
And again to the south, where Allah's blade is
He severely cut the earthly stronghold -
To the Grand Canyon with magical water,
Once you wash your face, you will become forever young.
Now go ahead! Chatyr-Dag is waiting for you
In the depths of the caves there is eternal cold and darkness.
Beauty is hidden here from the human world,
What water has been creating for thousands of years.
And then – hurry to reach the sky!
Climb the mysterious Demerdzhi
(Once upon a time it was called the smoky mountain),
Look around, enjoy the heights.
Oh, if only a bird could fly around the whole Crimea...
But time is short, you can’t do everything.
Which means I’ll be back again, somewhere
Celebrate Crimean summer in the mountains again.
Old Crimea
It's cozy here, like in a friends house.
The flowers in the flower beds are scarlet and gold,
The Greenovsky Museum stands in the sun.
I forgot the cold outside Moscow here,
Walking among trees and houses.
You are so calm, warm, ancient city
In a graceful frame of hills.
I came to Stary Crimea for the first time.
He lives under honeyed silence.
When I leave, let me leave the meadows of Russia
Hello my hot one is flying here.
Yellow sun of Crimea
In summer it burns mercilessly,
I'll throw it into the sea
Ariadne's gold!
Shine on the water cliffs,
Warm sand of the surf,
Seizing the opportunity
My sun is with me.
Waves of azure ripples
Let them gain strength!
Sea - you're near again
Sea - you are so beautiful!
Sun and sea together -
There is nothing more expensive for me!
I would be happy if
You thought so too!
Sevastopol autumn
Sevastopol autumn -
Malachite and turquoise.
Sevastopol autumn,
Golden eyes.
Streams of sunlight
Bays of blue glass...
Either autumn or summer -
Clear, quiet and warm.
The soul is light and pure.
The sky is in light silver.
And some yellow leaves -
After all, autumn is just around the corner.
Sevastopol autumn -
Slightly cool breeze.
Sevastopol autumn,
Fresh grape juice.
The beach is quiet and desolate,
No resort fuss.
And inspiration comes
And dreams are born.
Sevastopol autumn,
Crazy days in September.
Sevastopol autumn -
Autumn, akin to Boldino.
Poems about Crimea and about Crimea
About Crimean cities
Yalta, Evpatoria, Alushta,
They argue about which of them is the most beautiful.
The Crimean peninsula is like a shell,
To our joy he was thrown out of the sea.
Here are the legends of Troy and Hellas
With yours, the cities are intertwined by fate.
Every city awaits its reward,
Every city is so beautiful!
Here, in the valleys of sunny paradise,
Everyone is beautiful, and the quarrel is absurd.
Simferopol, like Paris, squeezes
The golden apple of discord.
Yalta, Evpatoria, Alushta...
Don't argue, darlings, don't!
Soon you will all have enough because
Ripe Crimean apples from the garden!
Crimea is a territory of Russia, -
This is the point because
That many are so unrestrained
Defy common sense...
It’s not Putin’s fault,
Who sent a soldier to Crimea,
And the bloodsucker Yatsenyuk,
Turchinov, leaders of bandits.
“Maidan” was sponsored by “the West”, -
The sniper came from there.
Who killed ordinary people
And subjected to brutal torture? -
You think you understand everything
When do you delve into politics?!
Who's in Ukrainian news
Instills fear with lies
And he threatens journalists
Removes those who are truthful from their positions,
Inspiring to take up arms
And gather the troops for war?
Should we judge the heads of the lands?
And blame Russia for evil,
Contributing to impotence
The demons of Crimea are teasing ours?!
We love Crimea, probably no less!
And we love poems about him very much,
But sometimes funny things
We read, we write again, we sing...
In the same way, open spaces attract us,
The song of the cicadas is just as intoxicating,
And the wonderful Crimean mountains,
And the September night starfall,
Dry winds and mountain paths,
Vineyards, sun, wine...
Beautiful lines about Taurida,
We read everything avidly and for a long time!
Here the sea is the conductor, and the resonator is the distance,
The concert of high waves here is clear in advance.
And the echo dances and sings among the stones.
Old paths of the New World
Sea and rocks. Sun and sea.
Echoing the ancient philosophers,
I walk slowly along the broken road.
Bare feet shod in sandals...
The New World is calm in the morning.
Slow dawn over the sea,
In the amphitheater of rocks and mountains,
Despite the night thunderstorm,
Bay and fishermen's boats,
And the wives waiting for the catch...
Half a bowl of dark turquoise...
And for me - the prizes of the past,
In the roots of a spreading pine
(Wonderful dreams come true!
The shards are washed away by streams:
A piece of brick and broken pots,
And the mother of pearl of a mollusk among the ashes,
Barashkov's burnt muscles,
And the bottom of the kylix, and the handle...
Here time has turned back.
Thin eras connecting thread -
It is given to us to preserve it,
Like fires of extinguished smoke
Along the trails that crossed Crimea...
In the shade, by the vine bush,
Under the arch of the old bridge,
Steps falling down
They lead not to hell, but to Paradise.
An ancient grotto with a spring in it
Arranged by a titled old man...
Here - according to the custom of ancient Hellas -
I dilute the wine with cool water.
Eternal waves gliding nearby
I follow with an unseeing gaze.
Poems about Crimea and about Crimea
Crimean night
Crimean night! Crimean night!
Festival of flowers and surf!
In black water there is a golden fleece,
Thrown by a star.
The Crimean night was given to me for happiness,
Light and love in her gaze.
Alien guest - the moon
A bridge was built across the sea.
Crimean night! Crimean night!
Mountains, foliage, waterfalls.
The air from the herbs drinks dry wine,
Cicadas chirp loudly.
The wave is dancing, cheerful and playful,
It's like being in a ballet theater.
Crimean night is a carnival of magic,
Song of the salty wind.
How much wealth was given to me at once,
How much space and freedom!
Crimean night! South night!
Celebration of grass and magnolias!
The dawn is golden over the sea
And the colors change tones.
Everything radiates with sincere happiness
And the wave plays gently!
Wonderful pinkness of the sky
Caresses both the soul and the eyes!
Oh, if only I had wings! -
I would flutter into the dawn pattern!
And I would fly like a bird over the sea,
I would absorb his beauty,
And a solar miracle infusion
I would pour kindness into the world!
What a wonderful action
Decorate the sky with dawn!
Magician dawn with sorcery
Greetings to the sunrise!
Parthenite
Sunny and snowy in winter Partenite!
This is a city of tenderness, just look...
Mountains, sun, sea - summer and winter
We'll meet you there again soon!
This is a fairy tale city, the magic of nature!
The stars, like eyes, look from the sky!
And sunrises are a miracle and sunsets too!
I will remember forever, there is no one more precious than him!
Parthenite is a handsome man, Parthenite is a magician
They will forever be praised in poems and songs!
"Winter evening in Yalta"
Dry Levantine face,
Hidden with pockmarks in the tanks.
When he looks for a cigarette in a pack,
On the nameless ring there is a dull ring
Suddenly refracts two hundred watts,
And my lens can’t stand the flash:
I squint and then he says,
Swallowing smoke at the same time, “guilty.”
January in Crimea. To the Black Sea coast
Winter comes as if for fun.
Can't hold on to the snow
On the blades and tips of the agave.
Restaurants are empty. They're smoking
Ichthyosaurs are dirty in the roadstead.
And the aroma of rotten leaves can be heard.
“Should I pour you this abomination?” "Pour it in."
So – smile, twilight, decanter.
In the distance the barman, clasping his hands,
Gives circles like a young dolphin
There are feluccas filled with anchovy around.
Window square. In pots - wallflower.
Snowflakes passing by...
Stop a moment! You're not so
It's wonderful how unique you are.
About Crimea...
Sliding, in the steppe and in the sea
Dolphin, roll over the grass...
They are always happy with the expanse
What do the Crimean winds give?
Bent a blade of grass
With the breeze
A wavy wrinkle floats
Lightly along the strands of feather grass
And the calm almost became agitated
Baths the sky horizon
But the wind changed again
Unpredictable winner
Will rise up as a steed playfully
Flying leader, on the circle
With a sparkling feather grass mane
On the Black Sea coast
Will run across the sea-field
And breaks out beyond the clouds
Well, the blade of grass will straighten out
And again calm... until the breeze...
Poems about Crimea and about Crimea
Above the sea
Only the smell of thyme, dry and bitter,
It blew over me - and this sleepy Crimea,
And this cypress, and this house, pressed
To the surface of the mountain, merged forever with him.
Here the sea is the conductor, and the resonator is the distance,
The concert of high waves here is clear in advance.
Here the sound, hitting the rock, slides vertically,
And the echo dances and sings among the stones.
The acoustics above set up traps,
She brought the distant murmur of streams closer to her ears.
And the roar of storms here became like the thunder of cannons,
And like a flower, a girl’s kiss blossomed.
A cluster of tits whistles here at dawn,
Heavy grapes are transparent here and al.
Time does not rush here, children gather here
Thyme, grass of the steppes, near motionless rocks.
Old friend, let's talk,
Old friend, do you remember Crimea?
Let's imagine that we are sitting
Under a dark and thick beech tree.
Jellyfish and crabs are stranded
Barefoot schoolchildren found
They lay behind the breakwater
The ships are in deep calm,
And the sea is like a cheerful dog,
Lies near the shallows and spits
And the rapid tongue of the wave
Licks boulders.
A star looks like a tear
And the cypress trees are down there,
Like two green candles
In the sandal-scented night.
You light a cigarette and say:
“What the night smells like! How quiet!
I've been here once before
But the land that I loved
But Crimea, which is so dear to me,
I smashed with three inches.
Then, in the twentieth, it was all around
Every stone was our enemy,
And every house, and every bush...
What a change of feeling!
Because now I'm on the shore
I can't see the cigarette butt
I won't let the branch fall,
I won't let you steal a pebble.
Is it not because the whole earth is
From Crimea to the walls of the Kremlin,
All to the last stream -
Now it's a draw, now it's mine?
Let there be in Livadia roses
The blood of those who did not have time to bloom,
Let him pour the grapes
That life twenty years ago
I came to lie in this land, -
I swear that the holiday is worth the candle!
Look! Here with a bunch of notes
He wears silk pajamas
And he raises the violin
Who gnawed at the sunflower at the gate.
Our summer vacation is fun, but,
Playing ball, going to the movies,
Rowing on a fragile yawl,
Fighting, working, loving,
How difficult this region was,
Don't forget, don't forget!.."
You fell silent. In the darkness of our eyes
The winged star lit up.
And the sea is like a cheerful dog,
Lies by the shallows and spits,
A star looks like a tear
And the cypress trees are down there,
They shine for us like two candles,
In the sandal-scented night...
Then we drank to the dregs
A glass of Muscat wine, -
A glass for your homeland,
It's a blessing to live in such a land,
For being the Kremlin, for being Crimea
We won't give it to anyone.
In the poem, in particular, Lyskov asks Obama “not to intrigue” Russia, but to “drink two glasses of vodka.”
Russian senator dedicated a poem to Crimea and offered Obama vodka
O Mr. Barack Obama, build a presidential gaze;
Your state Alabama is not needed, now our Crimea is like our patrol.
Let's go to the peak of Mount Ai-Petri so that the propeller hangs there,
So that the White House can be ventilated and the evil intentions may settle down.
It will settle, and your head will feel better for a long time,
We have Crimea and our Volga, don’t intrigue us from the outside.
It will be nice for you in the White House, it will be cozy and light all around,
Your social circle is not in the regional committee, the hawks are spoiling your forehead.
Oh, President Barack Obama, I propose a deal to you -
Two glasses of vodka instead of shame for the Crimea, which has come to us again.
Let us remember that Obama previously imposed economic sanctions against Russia.
At all times, great poets, writers, famous travelers and statesmen came to Crimea for inspiration, composed poetry and wrote prose, and made history. What did they say about the peninsula itself, its nature and cities, and what phrases of theirs are still heard? 
Nicholas II
No. 1. “I wish I never left here.”
This is what the last Russian Emperor Nicholas II often said while walking along the paths of the Livadia Palace park.
And indeed, the king’s summer residence was a favorite vacation spot for his entire family.
Alexander III also enjoyed spending the summer months here.
Pablo Neruda
No. 2. “Order on the chest of the planet”
The Chilean poet and politician Pablo Neruda traveled extensively around the world. Since Neruda was an ardent communist, he was welcomed in the USSR.
He had the opportunity to travel almost the entire Soviet Union. After visiting Crimea, his world-famous phrase was born: “Crimea is an order on the chest of planet Earth!”
Sergey Naydenov
No. 3. “A piece of heaven that fell to the ground”
Russian writer Sergei Naydenov wrote: “It’s better to be a peaceful Balaklava fisherman than a writer, that’s the sad thought that, I’m sure, more than one of the writers who visited Balaklava came to mind under the impression of gray, ancient mountains that guarded the eternal peace of a bluish lake - a piece of the sky that fell to the ground.” .
Nikolay Nekrasov
No. 4. “The sea and the local nature captivate and touch”
Russian poet and writer Nikolai Nekrasov, known for such works as “Who Lives Well in Rus'”, “Grandfather Mazai and the Hares”, in the last years of his life he was treated in Crimea under the supervision of the outstanding doctor Sergei Petrovich Botkin.
And in 1876 he wrote in his diary: “The sea and the local nature captivate and touch me. Now I go every day - most often to Oreanda - this is the best thing I’ve seen here so far.”
Adam Mickiewicz
No. 5. “The sky is just as clear, and the greenery is more beautiful...”
Another famous poet, Polish political publicist Adam Mickiewicz, was in exile in Russia from 1824 to 1829.
Including visiting Crimea in 1825. Most of all he admired the South Bank: “ The part of Crimea between the mountains and the sea represents one of the most beautiful areas in the world. The sky is as clear and the climate as mild as in Italy, but the greenery is more beautiful!
Pavel Sumarokov
No. 6. “All imaginary landscapes are nothing in comparison with these heavenly places”
While traveling around Taurida, writer, senator and member of the Russian Academy Pavel Sumarokov immortalized his delight at what he saw: “ Here nature did not spare itself: she wanted to show off her masterful hand, to show that art is a weak imitator of it... Here the sight is delighted everywhere, the heart feels pleasure and the soul, filled with delight, soars... In a word, the brush is weak, the pen is not enough to depict even a little these beauties."
Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak
No. 7. “I would set up a sanatorium for writers here...”
Russian prose writer and playwright Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak was fascinated by the Balaklava in 1905. On September 3rd he left an entry in his diary: “A wonderful place, fortunate for now in that very little favorable attention from “His Majesty the public” has been paid to it.
If it were up to me, I would set up a sanatorium for writers, actors and artists here.”
Ivan Matveevich Muravyov-Apostol
No. 8. “I’ll lock myself here with Ariosto and 1001 Nights”
The Russian diplomat, father of three Decembrists, Ivan Matveevich Muravyov-Apostol, traveling around Crimea in 1820, visited the Chorgun Tower in the village of Chernorechenskoye (now the Balaklava district of Sevastopol), after which he wrote admiringly: “Lovely place! If I ever decide to write a novel in the style of chivalry, I’ll lock myself up here with Ariosto and “1001 Nights”!”
Shishkin Olympics
No. 9. “You can have a pleasant time in Sevastopol...”
The maid of honor of Grand Duchess Ekaterina Pavlovna Olympiada Shishkina loved to visit Sevastopol.
In her “Notes and Memoirs of a Traveler in Russia in 1845,” which she dedicated to Nicholas I, the writer noticed a curious fact that “ Living in Sevastopol is not cheap, but you can have a good time..."
Konstantin Paustovsky
No. 10. “They rent rooms here for a tenner... Come!”
In the summer of 1929, the Russian writer Konstantin Paustovsky settled in Balaklava, at the former dacha of Count Apraksin. In a letter to a friend, Paustovsky noted: “They rent out rooms here for a tenner in the former Apraksin palace, right by the sea. It’s very quiet, deserted, and you can work great there. Come."
Vsevolod Vishnevsky
A revolutionary and playwright, a participant in the Crimean landing behind Wrangel’s lines, preparing to create a play about the fate of the revolutionary regiment, in 1932, in an article for the newspaper “Krasnoflotets” he wrote: “ Tavria is an amazing combination of historical memories: the German war, Admiral Kolchak, the battles of 1917, nearby are monuments of Greek and Roman times, Genoese monuments. You are always under the influence of the complex influences of history... The Sevastopol campaign, and right there in contrast stands a modern sailor..."
Mikhail Kotsyubinsky
The famous playwright of the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries (“Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors”, “At a High Price”) in 1897 worked in Crimea, which, according to contemporaries, “ignited his creative imagination.” His review of the peninsula during his stay in Alushta has been preserved: “ Today is our holiday, we didn’t go to work. I spent almost the whole day above the sea. It’s quiet, sunny, the air is so clear that Demerdzhi seems to be right behind his shoulders. Days like this only happen in Crimea and then in the fall.”
Lev Tolstoy
The first impressions of what he saw on the Sevastopol bastions on November 7, 1854 formed the basis of the lines of the famous “Sevastopol Stories”: “It is impossible that at the thought that you are in Sevastopol, a feeling of some kind of courage, pride does not penetrate your soul, and that the blood does not begin to circulate faster in your veins!”
Dubois de Montpere
The Swiss scientist and archaeologist Frederic Dubois de Montpere, having traveled around the entire peninsula in 1836 and writing the book “Journey to the Crimea,” admired Massandra most of all. “In all of Crimea there is no other mountain landscape that could be compared in beauty with the Massandra views,”- he remarked.
Stepan Skitalets
In 1908, the Russian poet and prose writer built a dacha in the Baydar Valley, in the village of Skeli, where he later loved to retire. However, he dedicated his famous lines to Balaclava: “ Long live Balaklava with its institutions - the library, coffee shop and post office!
Prepared by Alexey PRAVDIN
The material was published in the Crimean Telegraph newspaper No. 248 dated September 13, 2013.
“Do you want to party? And I really want it. Hellishly drawn to the sea. Living in Yalta or Feodosia for one week would be a true pleasure for me. It’s good at home, but on a ship, it seems, it would be 1000 times better. I want freedom and money. I would like to sit on the deck, crack wine and talk about literature, and in the evening the ladies. Will you be going south in September? Yours, A. Chekhov."
Chekhov A.P. - Suvorin A.S., July 28, 1893.
Dmitry Bykov: "I still love Crimea..."
Famous writer and oppositionist Dmitry Bykov answered questions from Znak.com readers
-What place on Earth do you dream of visiting? And what of what you have already seen captivated you the most?
I still love Crimea most of all - Artek, Gurzuf, Yalta, Sevastopol, Nikitsky Garden. Odessa - extremely. Novosibirsk academic town. Petersburg, especially the Petrograd side. From other countries - Peru, Latin America in general, and even in the States, I like a lot. Arkansas, for example, with its picturesque wilderness. New England. San Francisco. England: I love Cambridge very much. And I really want to go to Africa - it’s been in our blood since Pushkin. And so that no one would cheat on me here at this time, I would, naturally, not go there alone.
Kozinets Lyudmila, Lushpa Vladimir
“This small land is unique. In one day you can drive it lengthwise and crosswise. But the Crimean land surprisingly combines the signs of almost all climatic zones of our planet, plants of subtropical latitudes and the north...
Skiers ski on the Angarsk Pass, and roses bloom in Yalta...
On the southern coast of Crimea there is a specific smell of magnolias, and violets have just bloomed in the mountains...
The seasons of the year are so intricately intertwined in Crimea. And you can touch any of them, slowly rising from the sultry beaches to the sky-high mountain peaks...”
Streltsov Vladimir
“Knowing that the most precious thing for every person is their homeland, and trying to figure out why people who moved here were attached to the new place forever, as well as to their homeland, I realized that Crimea is a land of special energy, and in another way - sacred land, like Jerusalem.
Crimea, who are you and whose are you?
You are freedom-loving and did not allow yourself to be conquered by any people. You, having the aura of a living being, shudder and are indignant when they treat you unfairly, and, squinting from the sun, you give warmth to people when they come to you with kindness.
You understand and feel everything. And you belong equally to the peoples of all 125 nationalities living in Crimea. You are loved by millions of people who have visited you, and will undoubtedly be loved by those who are yet to meet you.”
Golovkinsky Nikolay,
hydrologist, geologist and local historian - about the Suuk-Kobu cave
Stalactites everywhere
Sometimes separately, sometimes in a row,
Then they are merged into solid masses,
It's like they sparkle.
Akhmatova Anna (about Bakhchisarai)
Once again given to me by slumber
Our last starry paradise -
City of clean water jets,
Golden Bakhchisarai.
There, behind the motley fence,
By the brooding water
We remembered with joy
Tsarskoye Selo Gardens,
And Catherine's eagle
Suddenly they found out - it’s the one!
He fell to the bottom of the valley
From the magnificent bronze gates.
To the song of farewell pain
I lived longer in my memory,
Autumn is dark in the hem
Brought red leaves
And sprinkled the steps
Where did I say goodbye to you
And from where to the kingdom of shadow
You are gone, my dear.
Anna Akhmatova, 1916
Dombrovsky O.I., archaeologist (about Bear Mountain)
“You won’t find more mysterious, interesting monuments in Crimea than on Bear Mountain...”
O.I.Dombrovsky, archaeologist
Kotsyubinsky Mikhail (about Alushta)
“Today is a holiday, we didn’t go to work. I spent almost the whole day above the sea. Quiet, sunny, the air is so clear that Demerdzhi seems to be right behind his shoulders. Days like this only happen in Crimea and then in the fall.”
Mikhail Kotsyubinsky - from a letter to his wife, Alushta
Mitskevich Adam (about Alushta)
“Alushta is one of the most delightful places in Crimea.”
Pushkin Alexander Sergeevich (about Bakhchisarai)
“We climbed the Mountain Stairs on foot, holding our Tatar horses by the tail. This amused me extremely and seemed like some kind of mysterious, Eastern rite.”
Alexander Pushkin - about his road to Bakhchisarai