Качать песню в хорошем качестве The Same Old Ground

Russia, 1995(silent), 2006(music), 35 mm, 10 min.,b&w
Director Dmitri Frolov
Music: Sergey Oskolkov (vimeo.com/208646598)
Cast: Peter Kremis, Natalya Sourkova, Romil Rachev
This is an attempt to penetrate info poetic world of russian poet Alexander Blok (1880-1921) using cinematographic means of that time. A film was shot at Ozerki (near St.Petersburg)-his beloved place. Being poetical and philosophical reflection of a perception of Blok's poetry, the film at the same time renders an atmosphere of legendary "Silver Age" of russian poetry.
A poor consumptive poet dreams about a meeting with the muse, but it is already impossible for him. Being immersed in mystical catalepsy, he sees her as though in reality. The film is made with the original music, written and performed by Sergey Oskolkov.
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Silent film that seems to have been shot at least 90 years ago and is a brilliantly made style exercise with a nineteenth-century theme of the tormented poet (possibly Alexandr Blok?), who sees the object of his desire loom up in an opium-inspired dream.(Rotterdam Film Festival).
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Blok was born in Saint Petersburg, into a sophisticated and intellectual family. Some of his relatives were literary men, his father being a law professor in Warsaw, and his maternal grandfather the rector of Saint Petersburg State University. After his parents' separation, Blok lived with aristocratic relatives at the manor Shakhmatovo near Moscow, where he discovered the philosophy of Vladimir Solovyov, and the verse of then-obscure 19th-century poets, Fyodor Tyutchev and Afanasy Fet. These influences would affect his early publications, later collected in the book Ante Lucem.
In 1903 he married the actress Lyubov (Lyuba) Dmitrievna Mendeleeva, daughter of the renowned chemist Dmitri Mendeleev. Later, she would involve him in a complicated love-hate relationship with his fellow Symbolist Andrei Bely. To Lyuba he dedicated a cycle of poetry that made him famous, Stikhi o prekrasnoi Dame (Verses About the Beautiful Lady, 1904).
At evening times above the restaurants
The sultry air’s harsh and stale.
The spirit of the spring-time pestilence
Reigns over drunken muffled wails.
And further up in dusty alley ways,
Beyond the summer cottage sloth,
A baker’s shop sign glistens gaudily,
And children’s cries are heard above.
And every evening in the countryside,
Amidst potholes with bowlers tipped,
The seasoned dandies saunter gratified,
Amusing damsels with their wit.
Lakeside the creaky oars reverberate
To flirty squeals of lady folks,
And astral discus, dull and obdurate,
Squirms in the sky above it all.
And every night my faithful soul mate
Stares back from hollows of my wine,
Akin to me, subdued and desolate,
To mystic liquid he resigned.
Around the nearby tables mesmerized
The waiters sleepily repass,
And drunkards with the rabbit-like red eyes
Proclaim, “In vino veritas!”
And every night as if the time was set
(or am I dreaming in this daze?)
A silk swathed maiden’s misty silhouette
Glides through the restaurant's drunken haze.
And slowly moving through the drunken guests,
Without an escort, indiscreet,
Emitting perfumes and exquisite mists
She settles at the window seat.
And her snug silks exude the ancient tales,
And doleful plumes atop her hat
Cascade and twine over the wispy veil,
In rings her narrow hand’s beset.
And overwhelmed by strange proximity
I look beyond the dusky veil,
And see the shore of charming verity,
And the charmed distance to prevail.
I am entrusted with deep mysteries,
Endowed with the Sun to hold,
And acrid wine awash in sorceries
Have pierced through fissures of my soul.
And ostrich feathers in cascading swells
Are swaying softly in my brain,
And deep blue eyes as deep blue sinkhole wells
Bloom in the distance on a plain.
Within my soul a treasure’s buried
And I’m the keeper of the key,
So right you are, grotesque inebriate,
I know, the truth resides in guilt.*
April 24th, 1906