The ghosts from the past.

When I was a child I read a lot of books and sensitive poems of world class so reach bestowed on me by Russian literature. I swallowed thousands of fairytales, sagas, and poems about unconditional love; good prevails upon evil; and happily ever after… They were sculpturing my imagination and perception of life. These works were my teachers, my parents, my friends and my lovers. I loved to watch television too, but it was limited by my strict parents who fostered me by “stick”. As little as I watched TV, I could be punished by banning to watch the most popular program for children, called “The visit of saga.” I still remember so vividly, the program was once in a week on Fridays and I was waiting for it the whole week. The biggest torture for me was to be confined in the kitchen during the sending, washing dishes after family's dinner, and being unable to watch my favorite program. Because it was the only program I was allowed to watch, I had longed for it the whole week. Sadly, when the desirable moment had come, I was punished and quite often. I heard laugh of the others who had been enjoying the program, I overheard some sounds and tried to imagine what was happening on the screen with my eyes full of tears. This fostering method left two deep marks on my behavior: I watch too much of television and I have boundless imagination.


My fantasy was also boosted by profound poems which helped me to create an imaginary place where I could escape from the harsh reality. I believed that by memorizing magical poems which I loved the most, eventually, I will be placed there. I strived to be diligent, and learning poems by heart day after day, I aspired myself to be better.

I am not sure if I am better now, it is not my call to judge. I have not accomplished a brilliant career of a writer or anything else in this matter. But I still cherish the childhood dreams of becoming a good person; a person with a brave heart and prominent deeds.

When it comes to my acquaintance with English poetry, I did not go so far. You have to have English as a mother tongue to enjoy every profound line of old poems, but I try. For the moment, I enjoy reading poems of Edgar Alan Poe and my favorite is “Annabel Lee”:

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may known
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love,
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me.
Yes, that was the reason- as all man know,
In this kingdom by the sea –
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger far than the love
Of those that were older than we,
Of many far wiser than we.
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life, and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.