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Liana Margiva

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Member Since: Jun, 2006

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Books by Liana Margiva
  Violin
by Liana Margiva
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Rated "G" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Liana Margiva
•  What Are You Grieving For, Old Woman?
•  Last drop of rain
•  I Wish I Knew
•  Why are you looking at me so sadly
•  Cry, Violin!
           >> View all 72


Poetry by Liana Margiva


 

The violin weeps in shadows of Spring night,

The air is infused with lilac’s fragrance.

Wind sings along and whistles gently,

Aroma spreading out mixed with sadness.

 

In someone’s pain the heart itself has known,

The wound is open, the dreams are all in slumber.

The pain that heart deprived of joy again erupts …

Why weep again, the violin, why rub it in

That there is no return to past?

Why moan you of the dreams

That in a dream had passed?

 

In distant past that we call youth

I longed for Love like soil would long for water

Amongst the with’ring draught, like pauper

Earns for bread. I swam and drowned in Love

Without remorse, without second thought

Just like in ocean’s waters, naively thinking

That my Love will be

Like ocean infinite and eternal.

 

But ocean waves my passion wouldn’t accept,

Afraid of searing passion of my Love

And always threw me back on sandy beaches

Where solitude and desolation reigned.

But I refused to yield and never found respite

In peace where Love didn’t blaze I found no joy.

 

I plunged time and again in ocean of my dreams,

But futile was my fight with fate, my efforts were in vain

I always was repulsed and left in pain.

Don’t weep, oh, violin, please don’t awaken

The feelings long departed from the soul.

To part with Love is like attending wake:

Your loved one’s gone, but memories remain.

 

Don’t wake those mem’ries up,  violin,

I wasn’t loved and I was cast away

There’s no return to past, or you forgot about that.

I sentenced was to be an outcast

But Love that blazed inside eternity would last,

Its merciless fire would burn me out

Beyond the shadow of the slightest doubt.

 

But I kept yearning for the bliss of passion,

For unfamiliar feeling to be loved.

I knew the hate from years very young,

That’s why I was refused by Love, it knew not

That those who learn to hate from early days

Love cherish more than those who hate escaped.

 

I know, violin, Life has passed,

It  didn’t  wait  for  Love to find me.

My Spring is gone, its leaves long turned,

And yellow they shiver on the ground

In mortal cold and fear and they whisper

About the end that soon will come around.

 

 

Oh, how I hoped my dreams of distant youth

Would finally come true , but life has come to end

And Time has turned to past when we naively thought

That old age comes to people, but somehow it will spare us.

Forever young we’ll prosper among the lilacs’s bloom.

 

The memory still keeps the golden time of Youth.

Don’t weep,  violin, I’m still around

It’s my soul that’s dead

It found no joy in solitude ahead.

 

 

 

By Liana Margiva

Translated from Russian by Anatol Kardiukov

 

 

 




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Reviewed by Micki Peluso
Dear Liana,

This poem rises and falls with the emotions of the violin itself in all it's mournful, angry beauty. I particularly love the last stanza.

Much love,

Micki
Reviewed by Phyllis Jean Green
This lovely piece can only have been written by a person

who will always be young. Liana, you are a wonder! Talented

and smart and original. Broke the mold when they made you!!

Violin is an inspired metaphor, and you play it beautifully.

Thank you so much for sharing this!!

xOx Phyllis xOx
Reviewed by Kate Burnside
That last stanza is a heart-stopper, Liana, as it overturns our usual thoughts about the endurance and fortitude of the soul above all else. So many lovely lines which linger in the mind, but the scented vividness of "Forever young we’ll prosper among the lilacs’s bloom." steals my heart and captures my attention. A lovely write which embodies the emotion exuded by the violins plaintive strands. xx

Reviewed by Gene Williamson
While the cry of the violin and the pain of unfulfilled dreams
drive this poem, Liana, I am caught up in the skill and creativity in which you shape your intense but lovely lines:

My Spring is gone, its leaves long turned,
And yellow they shiver on the ground

-gene.


Reviewed by J.A. Aarntzen
Very powerful and evocative.
Reviewed by Chip Bergeron
MJy God Liana, it sounds so much like my experience. There were a couple of lines that hit me hard, notabley:
"In peace where Love didn’t blaze I found no joy."
I've been there, am still there sometimes. You have captured my feelings.

Thank you,

Chip Bergeron
Reviewed by Elizabeth Russo
Hauntingly beautiful, Liana. The anguish is palpable, the words are touching. A most heart-wrenching piece. ~Hugs, Elizabeth
Reviewed by Paul Judges
Very fine work !
Reviewed by JMS Bell
HOW UNIQUELY AND ARTISTICALLY YOU DESCRIBE THE JOY AND SORROW OF PAST MEMORIES THAT CAN RETURN TO US IN THE 'HYPNOTIC' MELODIES THAT EMINATE FROM THE STRINGS OF A VIOLIN. CERTAINLY, OF ALL THE INSTRUMENTS, IT IS THE VIOLIN THAT CAN 'SEAR' THE SOUL SO DEEPLY AND YET...FROM ITS TOUCH WE ARE STRENGTHENED AND REVIVED...LIKE A BLISTERY BUT NECESSARY...WIND...FROM LONG AGO. SO WONDERFUL, LIANA! ENJOYED THIS ARTISTIC OFFERING TO THE FULLEST...THANK YOU FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
Reviewed by D. Vegas
Liana, Beautiful written!
Always,
Deborah
Reviewed by Don Juan Amante
dear lady this is intolerably sad but so perfectly written.
Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan
painful yet beautiful writing
Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader)
Oh my.... so very beautiful sweet lady just like you...stay safe and well..Hugsss,much love to you
Reviewed by Jon Willey
Like the violin our souls scream with detachment when the need for lasting love escapes our tenuous grip. The song of love and the song of life are separate, a rhapsody and a serenade. They were never intended to be played by the same violin at the same time. Our memories cloud the issue with perceptions battling the facts. So the violin continues to moan with strings the bow strokes out of key. Beautiful the way you have captured the scene of love in the act of our lives Liana Margiva my dear friend. I bid days of love joy and peace. Jon Michael
Reviewed by Amber Moonstone
Liana,
What a wonderfully written love poem, my favorite line of all:

"I longed for Love like soil would long for water
Amongst the with’ring draught, like pauper Earns for bread. "

Simply stunning poetry!!!!

Peace, love and light,
Amber
Reviewed by TONY NERONE
Lovely writing as always, Liana. Your a true poetess!
Peace and Love
Tony
Reviewed by Felix Perry
The song of love never dies, it may be set aside for a spell but sooner or later the musician puts bow to string to play another melody...great write Liana.
fee
Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather
it's as if the violin has it's very own song.....Morgan
Reviewed by Christine Tsen
Absolutely gorgeous and gentle reflection Liana!!!
Blessings,
Christine
Reviewed by Christine Alwin
Sadness echos in this song and dance of life..which is only a breath on earth, an eternity ahead...Heartfelt~
Christine
Reviewed by Regis Auffray
I find your verses so very meaningful and soul-reaching as I immerse myself in the powerful sentiments that you express. Thank you, Liana. Love and best wishes to you,

Regis
Reviewed by George Carroll
Poignant with the dirge a violin can't play without its strings being quivered to resonate the passion of the moment now dead and buried. Remorseful from a heart not attuned to fate that can't be changed.
Powerful poetry.
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