MAKHMUTOVA ALINA RAILEVNA

 

My Owm Way

They have a long way to go.

They will travel a lot and

A part will acquire its corner.

And some will not be accepted and

They will be hit by a word of criticism.

They will go through various victories, falls

Through a huge stream of readers' eyes.

Let the inspiration inside me pass in waves, cover my head.

Under my speech

A sleeping bud will bloom.

Speech will be enriched by the color of the sounds 

that will lie in the stanza together.

Different objects and images will pass through me.

The architecture of words in the head

Will build his own

Poetic house.

Then my poems will do what they should.

Literature Is The Mother Of All Arts

Literature,

Like magic,

Turns personal experience into

Universally human meaning.

And we are like sparks,

Connects

In a single search for essence and understanding.

Literature

Is powerful

Unifying

The beginning in society.

Works,

Like an interweaving of threads,

Weave a pattern of culture,

Traditions and

Values of peoples,

Connecting the past with the present and

Giving the future.

Every word, every line

Like the knocking of someone's heart

On the cardiogram of the literary field.

Literature -

The breath of the night sky,

Where every text is a star,

What is shining,

Lighting us on the path of life

Wisdom and beauty.

This art requires attention,

Comprehension and,

What's important,

Dialogue.

Interaction with works

Different eras and

Styles

Serves as an understanding of

How humanity has changed,

What values have we inherited and

What goals we are striving for.

Growing up in yourself

Love of literature,

We are laying the foundation

For future generations,

Who will be able to continue this tradition.

There's no one more beautiful than a man,

Than a man with a book.

Literature

Is not just an art,

It's a necessary part

Of our social and cultural consciousness,

The basis for development and

Human understanding.

She's oxygen.

Respect for literature,

Its preservation and development -

It's our responsibility

Before future generations and

In front of themselves.

To Get Enough Sleep From The Pain

 

Let's just shut up and

Will we go to bed early?

I want to sleep in pain so much. No strength.

 

Maybe,

Will this loss be enough for the world? Enough!

Well, how much can you compete?

But no,

There's a war there, there's a virus here... What else?

The pain of the plate is already falling on us and

Fragile bodies, sick souls

I can't stand it already.

I'm hiding myself from the news,

 I try to choose more beautiful dreams.

Pictures with the sea, sick holes smear

In the evenings at heart.

And I'm not indifferent to someone else's grief

I'm looking at the appetites of this pain. And the pain

Voluptuous points thrust into me, setting fire to my mind.

How lightning is playing in my body now,

Incerating,

Undresses me, taking away the most important thing from me:

Joys of life,

Where I hear my favorite smell of grass,

Where the air tastes good and

The touch of the wind is my favorite.

Where the spring sun kisses the face and

Autumn leaves hug me.

Where you can hear the music of rain at night

And in the morning I dance to the rain.

Where the waves of the children's lake lick my heels

I remember that.

And all this is part of me

He wants to take away the pain.

It's numb, the soul resists,

When pain breaks into her,

Taking away the best in me.

It bribes. It's tormenting. He assures.

Smiling, he repeats shamelessly,

That will live only on the outskirts of the soul

Occasionally torment with despondency and sadness.

Let's say.

But will I also be able to feel and see (remember) everything 

What is so dear to me

And in me?

Naive. Of course, she won't say.

I won't be happy and taste bad. I know.

I'll treacherously renounce these little things

Great inner happiness of his own.

Ordinary, but the best.

Our inner happiness is

What saves us from useless,

Harsh, cruel reality.

And there are not only small ones in this happiness

The joy of life. He has faith and hope

For the distorted, but definitely the future

Good and bright.

 

Let's just shut up and

Will we go to bed early?

I want to sleep in pain so much. No strength.

I'm addressing myself today.

 

MAKHMUTOVA ALINA RAILEVNA

 

MAKHMUTOVA ALINA RAILEVNA: Alias Ana May. Born on May 28, 1991 in Kazan, Republic of Tatarstan, Russia. She graduated from Tomsk State University with a degree in Entrepreneurship, then opened her nonsense of handmade underwear. The author has been writing and published since 2022. Member Of The International Literary Association Creative Tribune. Member of the National Association of Playwrights. Author of four books. She was awarded medals "Marina Tsvetaeva", "Sergey Yesenin" for her contribution to the development of Russian literature under the Resolution of the Presidium of the RSP of 25.01.2023, 1.09.2023. Laureate of the All-Russian Lithuanian contest "Save the Pushkin language!" 2024; Laureate of the International Literary Competition "Her Majesty the Book", nomination "Hiberbook" 2024; Laureate of the Walt Whitman International Literary Competition, nomination "Publicistics" 2023; Laureate of the International Competition "ART. PERFECTION. RECOGNITION" (ART. EXCELLENCE. AWARDS), nomination "Literature", category "Professional" 2023; Winner of the Mark Twain International Prize, nomination "Book" 2023; Winner of the "Premio Universal de Poesia Juan Antonio V. Delgadillo 2024" (Spain).