"She, as before, wanted ..." Alexander Blok

She, as before, wanted
Breathe your breath
Into my tortured body
To my cold home.

Like the sky, she stood over me,
And I could not meet her
Wiggle a sick hand
To say that I missed her ...

I looked with dull eyes,
How sad she is for me
And there was no more between us
No words, no happiness, no offense ...

The earthly heart was tired
So many years, so many days ...
Earthly happiness is belated
On the top three of his own mad!

I'm finally terminally ill
I breathe differently, I yearn for others,
Satisfied with the sunset
And I'm not afraid of eternal night ...

Eternity looked into my eyes
I brought down peace in my heart,
The cool moisture of the blue night
The excitement flooded the bonfire ...

Analysis of Blok's poem "She, as before, wanted ..."

In 1907, Lyubov Dmitrievna Mendeleeva-Blok, whose marriage was unsuccessful and brought her little happiness, decided to come to grips with an acting career. The husband did not approve of her hobbies, since he did not see talent in his wife. By and large, the poet was right. Nature did not award Mendeleev-Blok with acting talent. Lyubov Dmitrievna compensated for the lack of talent by constantly working on herself. In the winter of 1908, she joined the troupe of Vsevolod Emilievich Meyrhold, with whom she went on tour in the Caucasus. At this time, her romance began with one of the actors. Mendeleev-Blok did not hide treason from her husband. The relationship ended quickly enough, their result was the pregnancy of Lyubov Dmitrievna. In August, she returned from a tour to St. Petersburg to her husband. He not only forgave the betrayal, but also agreed to accept the unborn child as his own. Unfortunately, he was not destined to fully learn the joy of fatherhood. Mendeleeva's son-Blok, born in February 1909, lived only eight days. Before the August arrival of his wife from the tour, Blok wrote a poem "She, as before, wanted ...". Life situation the poet found an indirect reflection in it.

The theme of death during life dominates in the work. A beloved comes to the lyric hero. Already from the first line it is clear that parting and meeting is a common thing for them. The relationships of the characters seem to move in a circle. The woman visits the hero, trying to resurrect him, to breathe her breath into the exhausted body. In Blok's lyrics, “breath” often acts as a symbol of the spiritually-living principle of the heavenly-divine world, which is also evident in the text under consideration. Dear to the heart the lady returned too late. The torment, generated by the existence without love, became the cause of the spiritual death of the lyric hero. He is no longer able to tell her about his feelings, to stretch out his hand to her: "Earthly happiness is belated ...". The state of death during life brought the relationship of the characters to another level:
And there was no more between us
No words, no happiness, no offense.
The hero has a presentiment that spiritual death will soon be followed by physical death: "I, finally, mortally ill ...". He declares this without excessive tragedy and pathos. Moreover, the word "finally" used by the poet gives the line a colloquial character. The lyrical hero is not afraid of the end of earthly existence. The eternity that looked into his eyes gave peace to his heart.

She, as before, wanted
Breathe your breath
Into my tortured body
To my cold home.

Like the sky, she stood over me,
And I could not meet her
Wiggle a sick hand
To say that I missed her ...

I looked with dull eyes,
How sad she is for me
And there was no more between us
No words, no happiness, no offense ...

The earthly heart was tired
So many years, so many days ..
Earthly happiness is belated
On the top three of his own mad!

I'm finally terminally ill
I breathe differently, I yearn for others,
Satisfied with the sunset
And I'm not afraid of eternal night ...

Eternity looked into my eyes
I brought down peace in my heart,
The cool moisture of the blue night
The excitement flooded the bonfire ...

"Sleep blissfully, overseas guests, sleep ..."

Sleep blissfully, overseas guests, sleep,
Forget that the cage where we fight is darker and darker ...
The stars are falling, drawing silvery threads
That golden snakes are dancing in a glass of wine ...

When these threads are woven into a shiny mesh
And the wine snakes will weave into one infinity?
Raise, twist and throw an unnecessary cage
Into the bottomless abyss, into some kind of blue eternity.

"When despair and anger freeze ..."

When despair and anger die,
Sleep descends. And we both sleep soundly
At opposite poles of the earth.

You may be dreaming about me in these
Clock. The hours go by with the gait of centuries,
And dreams arise in the distance.

And in my dreams I see your image, your beautiful ones,
What he was like before the evil and passionate night,
What appeared to me. Look:

You are still the same you that once bloomed
There, over the misty and jagged mountain,
In the rays of the unfading dawn.

Forgetting you

And the hour has come. Time twisted its cloak
And the sword flashed, and the walls parted.
And I went with the crowd - there, for everyone,
Into the misty and evil heights.

Behind the steep slopes, steep slopes opened again,
The people grumbled, the leaders lost their strength.
Thunderclouds were walking towards us,
A sheaf of lightning crushed them.

And my hands hung like whips,
When fists clenched around
Thunders threatening, children wept,
And the wives wrapped themselves in kerchiefs.

And I, exhausted, fell behind, left. out of service,
Behind me is a crowd of my companions,
The blue sky did not shine for us,
And the sun is in thunderclouds.

We wandered, grumbled helplessly,
And the old huts could not be found,
And, converging at night fires, trembled,
Hoping to find ways ...

Waste heat! Vain wanderings!
We dreamed, we stopped loving dreams.
So - the joylessness of dreams is destined
Forgetting you.

"Your face is so familiar to me ..."

Your face is so familiar to me
As if you were living with me.
Away, on the street and at home
I see your thin profile.
Your steps are ringing behind me
Wherever I go, you are there.
Are you not with a light foot
Do you follow me at night?
Don't you slip by
As soon as I look at the door,
Semi-airy and invisible
Is it like a dream?
I often wonder if you
Among the churchyard, behind the threshing floor,
Sat silently at the grave
In your chintz handkerchief?
I was approaching - you were sitting
I walked up - you walked away
She went down to the river and sang ...
To the voice of your bell
They responded with an evening ring ...
And I cried and waited timidly ...
But behind the evening chime
Your sweet voice faded ...
Another moment - there is no answer
A handkerchief flickers across the river ...
But I know sadly that somewhere
I'll see you again.

Russia

Again, like in golden years,
Three worn out straps,
And painted knitting needles stuck
In loose ruts ...

Russia, impoverished Russia,
I have your gray huts,
Your songs for me are windy -
Like the first tears of love!

I don't know how to feel sorry for you
And I carry my cross with great care ...
What sorcerer do you want
Give back the robbery beauty!

Let it lure and deceive, -
You will not be lost, you will not perish,
And only care will cloud
Your beautiful features ...

Well? One more concern -
With one tear the river is noisier
And you are still the same - a forest, but a field,
Yes, the dress is patterned up to the eyebrows ...

And the impossible is possible
The road is long and easy
When the road shines in the distance
Instant glance from under the handkerchief
When it rings with a wary melancholy
Deaf song of the driver! ..

"I am nailed to the inn counter ..."

I am nailed to the inn counter.
I've been drunk for a long time. I do not care.
There is my happiness - on the top three
Carried away into the silvery smoke ...

Flies on a troika, sank
In the snow of time, in the distance of centuries ...
And only the soul overwhelmed
Silver haze from under the horseshoes ...

Sparks are thrown into the deep darkness,
From sparks all night, light all night ..
The bell under the arc babbles
That happiness has passed ...

And only the harness is golden
Visible all night ... Heard all night ..
And you, soul ... deaf soul ...
Drunk-drunk ... drunk-drunk ...

"The hour hand is approaching midnight ..."

The hour hand is approaching midnight.
Candles fluttered like a light wave.
Thoughts were stirred up like a dark wave.
Happy New Year, heart! I love you secretly.
The evenings are dull, the streets are dumb.
I love you secretly, dark girlfriend
A vicious youth, a burned-out life.

"Old roses ..."

Vintage roses
I carry, lonely
In the snow and frost,
And my path is far.
And the same path
With a sword on my shoulder
He follows me
In a foggy cloak.
He walks and knows
That the snow has already been crushed
What is burning out there
Last sunset.,
That there is no way out for me
All night long,
What is more freedom
They won't follow me.
And where, belated,
Will I find a lodging for the night?
Only roses on thawed
Snow is falling
Only tears on the scarlet
Snow is falling.
Yearning deathly
I can’t help.
He roses aimlessly
Trample in the snow.

"Here it is - the wind ..."

Here it is - the wind
Ringing with caution longing,
Over the endless swamp
Impossible fire
Spreading ghost
Roadside willows ...

This is what you promised me:
The grave.

"Night is like night, and the street is deserted ..."

The night is like night and the street is deserted.
As always!
For whom were you innocent
And proud?

Only a damp drop of haze from the cornices.
Me myself
Gonna make a wicked challenge
Heaven.

Everyone in the world, everyone in the world knows:
There is no happiness.
And how many times they squeeze in their hands
Pistol!

And how many times, laughing and crying,
Live again!
Day is like day; because the problem is solved
Everyone will die.

"You are as light as innocent snow ..."

You are as light as innocent snow.
You are as white as a distant temple.
I don't believe this night is long
And hopeless evenings.

To my soul, long tired,
I don't want to believe either.
Perhaps a belated traveler
I'll knock on your quiet tower.

For those pernicious torments
Forgive the unfaithful one
Stretch out your hands to the traitor
In the distant spring you will reward.

"With my bitter tears ..."

With your bitter tears
Spring cried over us.
Fire flickered behind the reeds,
Teasing a dashing horse ...

Again she called inhuman
You, given to me a long time ago! ..
But by the violent wind, by the headwind
Your face is scorched ...

Again - powerless and in vain -
You moved away from the fire ...
But even the sky was passionate
And the sky was for me !.

And it didn't matter what
Kiss the lips, caress the shoulder,
Which streets are deaf
Chasing a daring reckless driver ...

And all the same, whose sigh, whose whisper,
Perhaps you are no longer here ...
Only the horse's uneven footfall,
As if from a distant height ...

So - maddened by the moment -
We gave ourselves over and over again
Proud of my destruction
Your vicissitudes, love!

Now that the stars are closer to me
Than that violent night
When still immensely lower
You fell, daughter of humiliation,

When alone with myself
I curse every day -
Now passes before me
Your discredited shadow ...

With kindness? Or reproachfully?
Or hating, revenge, sorrow?
Or do you want to be my sentence? -
I don’t know: I have forgotten you.

"It is already getting dark over the sea ..."

It is already evening over the sea,
You torment me with a dream,
And since midnight the wind blows
Through unkind reeds.

Lighting the lights on the masts
Ships are leaving at sea
And you, night, you, earthly,
Again you carry it away from the ground.

You are all captivating and deceitful
All - in retreating lights,
In the mist of the evening bay
In light foggy shroud.

Let me have coastal fire too
To dissolve you towards
In a wreath of passionate and inevitable -
Weave a flower of love ...

The promise is false:
Before me - you again.
It is impossible for a soul in love
Do not dream of a sweet death.

"I can't help but call you ..."

I can't help but call you
My happiness!
Your tender name
It's sweet to repeat!

All of you are a stormy spring
All of you are drunk by me alone.
Don't run away!
Do you want a day -
Night comes ...
You will not escape me!

Golden braid, unravel!
Look into those greedy eyes!
Long-awaited thunderstorm, break out!

"I wish you all the fun ..."

I wish you all the fun
Heart, my gold!
From a hangover to a hangover
From freedom again to freedom -
A carefree life!

But the earthly cell is low,
Pale gold is yours!
In an hour of riotous fun
Suddenly he will sweep with passionate pain,
Black winged crow!

I have been tortured by you,
Underwater snake!
With a blue scythe
Braiding a friend,
You are mine and not mine!

You are with me and not with me -
You are torn to the distant lands!
You will braid me with a scythe
And you will hear, dying,
Dead cry of a crow!

"I did not call you - you yourself ..."

I didn't call you - you yourself
I came up.
Every evening the smell of mint
The month is narrow and gap-toothed,
Silence and darkness.

As if a month rose from afar,
You've come
In light fabric, no sandals.
Trembled over their shoulders
Two wings.

On the grass, barely crumpled,
Light trail.
The fresh scent of wild mint
Inanimate, bluish
The nights are light.

And I live next to you
As in a dream.
And I live under a pale gaze
Long night
Like a month there, above the garden,
Looks into the eyes
Silence.

"Sad and crying and laughing ..."

Sad and crying and laughing
The streams of my poems are ringing
At your feet
And every verse
Runs, weaves a living ligature,
His not knowing the shores.

But through crystal streams
You are as distant to me as you were ...
Crystals sing and cry ...
How can I create your features
So that you can come to me
From an enchanted distance?

"Come down, the curtain is faded ..."

Come down, the curtain is faded
On my sick geraniums.
Get lost, gypsy life is unprecedented
Extinguish, close your eyes!

Are you, life, my meager room
I cleaned it with steppe feather grass!
Are you, life, my impenetrable sleep
Poisoned with green wine!

Like a gypsy, patterned shawls
You spread before me
Whether with blue-black braids,
Oh, is it a firestorm of passion!

What cried to me in a whisper, in oblivion,
What are the unearthly words?
I was not myself only, without memory,
And my head was spinning ...

My steppe has been burned, the grass has been dumped,
No fire, no star, no path ...
And whom I kissed is not my fault
You, to whom you promised - forgive ...

"About valor, about exploits, about glory ..."

About valor, about exploits, about glory
I was forgetting on a woeful land
When your face is plainly framed
Before me shone on the table.

But the hour has come and you left home.
I threw the cherished ring into the night.
You gave your destiny to another
And I have forgotten the beautiful face.

Days flew by, spinning in a cursed swarm ...
Wine and passion tormented my life ...
And I remembered you before the analogue,
And he called you as his youth ...

I called you, but you didn't look back
I shed tears, but you did not descend.
You sadly wrapped yourself in a blue cloak,
You left the house on a damp night.

I don't know where my pride is sheltered
You, dear, you, tender, have found ...
I sleep soundly, I dream of your blue cloak,
In which you left on a damp night ...

Do not dream of tenderness, of glory,
Everything is over, youth is over!
Your face in its simple frame
I took it off the table with my own hand.

"Not then did I call myself a paladin ..."

Not then did I call myself a paladin,
Not then, after all, and you came to me,
To only weep over the extinct fireplace,
To only dance with a dead fire "

Or is happiness really wrong and fast?
Or am I really weak already, sick and old?
Not! The last sparks still roam in the ashes -
There is a fire for a fire to break out!

"You were born from a whisper of words ..."

You were born from a whisper of words
Climbed into the evening garden
And showered cherry blossoms
Your spring greetings rang out.
Since then, every night, every day.
Above me is your light shadow
The scent of white flowers in the gardens
The rustle of light steps by the ponds,
And disturbing insomnia away
Can't drive you out on a transparent night.

Poems of 1909

Autumn day

We walk through the stubble, slowly,
With you, my humble friend,
And the soul is pouring out
As in a dark village church.

Autumn day is high and quiet
Only audible - the crow is deaf
Calling his comrades,
Yes, the old woman coughs.

Owin will spread low smoke
And for a long time under the barn
We are watching intently
During the crane flight ...

They fly, fly at an oblique angle,
The leader rings and cries ...
What is it ringing about, about what, about what?
What does autumn cry mean?

And low beggar villages
Do not count, do not measure with an eye,
And shines on a darkened day
Bonfire in a meadow far away ...

Oh my poor country
What do you mean to the heart?
Oh my poor wife
What are you crying bitterly about?

"My dear, be brave ..."

My darling, be brave
And you will be with me.

I'm cherry white
I swing over you.

Green star
I will spin from the east

A cold wave
I will mold on the armor,

Free mermaid
I will appear over the stream

We are free, we are in pain
We are sweet together.

To us on dark nights
Easy to die

And into dead eyes
Look to each other.

"My head was not crowned with a mourning laurel ..."

The mourning laurel did not crown my head
During these years of feasts and sorrows.
An idle rumor was filled with thunders of timpani,
The heart is the music of violent passions.

I did not know a bright angelic lie,
I did not wander among the divine thickets.
My dream lasted for centuries, collecting all the visions
In your wide, midnight cloak.

And when a deceiving light flickers to you,
Know - again it will slip into darkness.
No sunset day, gullible, no.
I will not take off my night coat.

"To the noise and ringing monotonous ..."

Monotonous noise and ringing
Under the city bustle
I'm leaving, idle at heart,
Into a blizzard, into darkness and into emptiness.

I break the thread of consciousness
And I forget what and how ...
All around - snow, trams, buildings,
And ahead - lights and darkness.

What if I, spellbound,
Consciousness that broke the thread,
I will return home humiliated, -
Can you forgive me?

You who know a distant goal
Guiding beacon,
Will you forgive me for my blizzards?
My delirium, poetry and darkness?

Or you can do better: without forgiving,
Wake up my bells
To thaw the night
Didn't she take you away from your homeland?

"I don't remember today what happened yesterday ..."

I don't remember today what happened yesterday
I forget my evenings in the morning
I forget the lights on a white day
I forget the days at night.

But all the nights and days come over us
Before death, at the solemn hour.
And then - in the stuffiness, in the cramped
It hurts too much to dream
About the former beauty
And not be able to:
Do you want to get up -
And night.

"The dead man goes to bed ..."

The dead man goes to bed
On a white bed.
It whirls easily in the window
Calm blizzard.
Rushing like a downy wind
On a snowy bed.

Snowflakes light fluff
Where is it flying where?
Gone are the years
I'm sorry immortal spirit
Rebellious gaze and hearing!
It never came.

And rest, sweet rest
Lightly clung to me.
And air, free air
He sighed on the sheet.
Sorry winged spirit!
Fly, immortal fluff!

"So. The storm of these years has passed ... "

So. The storm of these years has passed.
The man trudged along a furrow
Raw and black. Above me
The wing springs are ringing again ...

And scary, and easy, and painful;
Again spring is whispering to me: get up.
And I kiss piously
Her invisible fabric ...

And my heart is beating too soon
And the blood is getting too young
When behind a cloud of a lightfin
My first love runs through me ...

Forget, forget about the scary world
Flap your wing, fly there ...
No, I was not alone at the feast!
No, I will never forget!

"In hungry and sick captivity ..."

In hungry and sick captivity
And a day is not a day, and a year is not a year.
When the field ripens
Will the humiliated people sigh?

That summer, rustle in the darkness,
Either straightening, now leaning
All night under the secret wind, cereals:
The bloom time has begun.

The people are the crown of the earthly color,
Beauty and joy for all colors:
The Lord's Summer cannot be avoided
Favorable - and to us.

"Already the evening is a bright stripe ..."

Already the evening is a bright stripe
Burned out on cold rails.
You, slender, with a tight braid
I walked over the black spots of the sleepers.
Your quick gaze is boring fire
Burned and blinded me.
An instant ... with a one-sounding thunder
The black train divided us ...
When, with a slightly trembling ringing
The rails sang: don't forget
And the semaphore is fire green
I was shown a free path -
You've gone far away
The grass was already losing color ...
There dust rose, there night entered
Into their vague rights ...
Alarming whistles and puffs of smoke
Around the bend on the mountain ...
A vain moment that passed by.
Fire green at dawn.

To the death of a baby

When cold under the spade
The sand and bright snow creaked,
In me, sad and free,
The man was still humbled.

Let this death be understandable -
In my soul, to the songs of memorial services,
Evil spots were already showing through
Unforgettable grievances.

Already with a threat it shrank
Hitherto a good hand.
Already rose and rushed
In the soul of a poisoned melancholy ...

I will suppress a dull anger
I'll betray longing for oblivion.
Holy little coffin
I will pray at night.

But - to be on the knee
Thank you, grieving? -
No. Over the baby, over the blissful
I will grieve without You.

"Here at dusk at the end of winter ..."

Here at dusk at the end of winter
She and I are just two souls.
"Stay, let us see,
As the month sinks into the reeds. "
But in the light whistle of the reeds,
Under the blowing breeze

Transparent blue ice
Her soul twitched ...
Gone - and there is no other soul
I go, purr: tra-la-la ...
Remained: a month, reeds,
Yes, the bitter smell of almonds.

"They don't sleep, they don't remember, they don't trade ..."

They do not sleep, do not remember, do not trade.
Over the black city, like a moan,
Stands, tormenting the deaf night,
Solemn Easter ringing.

Over human creation,
Which he hammered into the ground,
Over stench, death and suffering
They ring until they lose their strength ...

Over the world's nonsense;
Over everything that cannot be helped;
They ring over a fur coat,
In which you were that night.

(Spring 1911)

"When I first received my sight ..."

When I first saw my sight
Towards a thirsty dream
The glowing rays rushed
And a trumpet angel in height.

But I couldn't stand the celebration
Desolate life is vanity
She distorted with a toothless laugh
All that the dream was alive.

The angel trumpets fell silent
Daytime night is silent.
Give me back my life, even though the laughter is toothless,
So that you do not get tired in the silence!

March 1909

"I breathed life into the face of the grave ..."

I breathed life into the face with a grave -
I can't breathe a passionate storm.
One dream with stubborn strength
The latter opens the way:

Poi, poi your creations
The invisible poison of the dead
So that the wrathful maturity of contempt
Poisoning human hearts.

March 1909

"A spring day has passed without business ..."

A spring day passed by
By the unwashed window;
I missed the wall and sang
Like a captive bird, wife.

I slowly collected dispassionately
Memories and deeds;
And it became mercilessly clear:
Life rustled and went away.

Thoughts, disputes will return,
But it will be dull and dark;
Why lower the curtains on the windows
The day has burned out in my soul long ago.

March 1909

"When, entering the huge world ..."

When, entering the vast world,
You seek in vain for unity;
When you look into the dark corner
And you wait for death from the darkness;

When you're angry or sick
Longing or burning passion,
Believe me: then you are still free
Be proud of your happiness!

When neither boredom nor love,
You don't breathe fear,
When dreams are tarnished
Not young and not fast blood, -

Then - you are robbed and naked:
Death is not possible without languor,
And life, not knowing destruction,
So - only slows down the step.

March 1909

"What a marvelous picture ..."

What a marvelous picture
Yours, oh my north, yours!
Always a barren plain
As empty as my dream!

Here is my spirit, spiteful and stubborn
Alarms the silence with laughter;
And, answering, the black raven
Shakes a dead pine;

Waterfalls are bubbling below
Tocha granite and tree roots;
And the naiads sing on the stones
A sexless hymn of unmarried virgins;

And in this hum of cold waters,
In the hateful cry of a crow,
Under the fishy gaze of barren virgins
My life is quietly smoldering!

March 1909

"You are sitting in the room alone ..."

You sit alone in the room.
Do you hear?
I know you are awake now ...
You breathe and you don't breathe.

Why did the light go out outside the door?
Do not be afraid!
I am your long forgotten hour
I knock - open up.

I know you're delirious now
Rebellious!
I will come in to you anyway
An old friend and gentle ...

Don't be afraid to remember me:
You were so young ...
You sat on a white horse
And the autumn cold burned my cheeks!

You flew there, there -
Into sunset amber!
Unwise, did you know then
Is your beggar return path?

Now you are wise: do not contradict -
What's the use of an argument?
Do you remember first love
And dawns, dawns, dawns?

Why did you bow your face
So low?
Take comfort: the wind outside the window -
That pipe of death is near!

Open, answer my question:
Was your day bright?
I brought a royal shroud
A gift for you!

March 1909

Italian poetry

Sic finit occulte sic multos decipit aetas

Sic venit ad finem quidquid in orbe manet

Heu heu praeteritum non est revocabile tempus

The inscription under the clock in the Church of Santa Maria Novella (Florence)

Ravenna

Everything that is minute, everything that is perishable
You buried it for centuries.
You sleep like a baby Ravenna
In the hands of a sleepy eternity.

Slaves through the Roman gates
Mosaics are no longer imported.
And gilding is burning out
Cool basilicas in the walls.

From the slow kiss of moisture
The rough vault of tombs is softer,
Where the sarcophagi turn green
Holy monks and queens.

The coffin halls are silent
Their threshold is shady and cold,
So that the black gaze of blessed Galla,
Waking up, he did not burn the stone.

War battle and resentment
Forgotten and erased the bloody trail,
So that the resurrected voice of Placis
Didn't sing the passions of the past years.

The sea has receded far away
And roses surrounded the shaft,

So that Theodoric sleeping in the coffin
I never dreamed of the storm of life.

And grape deserts
Houses and people are all coffins.
Only the copper of solemn Latin
Sings on the plates like a trumpet.

Only in a steadfast and quiet gaze
Ravenna girls sometimes
Sadness for the irrevocable sea
It passes in a timid succession.

Only at night, leaning towards the valleys,
Keeping track of the centuries to come,
Dante's shadow with an aquiline profile
He sings to me about New Life.

May - June 1909

In 1907, Lyubov Dmitrievna Mendeleeva-Blok, whose marriage was unsuccessful and brought her little happiness, decided to come to grips with an acting career. The husband did not approve of her hobbies, since he did not see talent in his wife. By and large, the poet was right.

Nature did not award Mendeleev-Blok with acting talent. Lyubov Dmitrievna compensated for the lack of talent by constantly working on herself. In the winter of 1908, she joined the troupe of Vsevolod Emilievich Meyrhold, together with which she went on tour in the Caucasus.

At this time, her romance began with one of the actors. Mendeleev-Blok did not hide treason from her husband. The relationship ended quickly enough, their result was the pregnancy of Lyubov Dmitrievna.

In August, she returned from a tour to St. Petersburg to her husband. He not only forgave the betrayal, but also agreed to accept the unborn child as his own. Unfortunately, he was not destined to fully learn the joy of fatherhood.

Mendeleeva's son-Blok, born in February 1909, lived only eight days. Before the August arrival of his wife from the tour, Blok wrote

The poem "She, as before, wanted ...". The poet's life situation was indirectly reflected in him.

The theme of death during life dominates in the work. A beloved comes to the lyric hero. Already from the first line it is clear that parting and meeting is a common thing for them.

The relationships of the characters seem to move in a circle. The woman visits the hero, trying to resurrect him, to breathe her breath into the exhausted body. In Blok's lyrics, “breath” often acts as a symbol of the spiritually-living principle of the heavenly-divine world, which can also be seen in the text under consideration.

The dear lady returned too late. The torment, generated by the existence without love, became the cause of the spiritual death of the lyric hero. He is no longer able to tell her about his feelings, to stretch out his hand to her: “Earthly happiness is belated ...”. The state of death during life brought the relationship of the characters to another level:
And there was no more between us
No words, no happiness, no offense.
The hero has a presentiment that spiritual death will soon be followed by physical death: “I am finally mortally ill ...”. He declares this without excessive tragedy and pathos. Moreover, the word “finally” used by the poet gives the line a colloquial character. The lyrical hero is not afraid of the end of earthly existence.

The eternity that looked into his eyes gave peace to his heart.

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