On March 27, International Theater Day is celebrated all over the world – a professional celebration of theater artists, established in 1961 in Vienna at the IX Congress of the International Theater Institute at UNESCO. Despite the fact that “World Theater Day” does not have official state status in the Russian Federation, it is widely celebrated in theatrical circles. I would like to congratulate everyone who is connected to one degree or another with the theater. Your work is not in vain. The stronger the cultural traditions of the people, the more united they are and the stronger their inner core.
I was also close to these circles and even wrote several plays in verse. The most famous of which is “The Return of Theseus”
And I want to congratulate everyone involved in the theater with my poems.
You tell me, friend Horace,
When the standing ovation subsides,
The hall where the reception was held today
And you and I were together.
Yes, theatrical stages,
Sometimes not scrawled boards,
We all still love,
We have been in love with the theater since childhood…
I remember we used to love,
When we were all taken here,
To show this throne room,
And to find out what our world has become.
How I looked at the performance…
I remember the childhood excitement…
Candles burning tender tone
And the scenery is a bright background…
How we all liked the artists,
Reading to everyone under whistles,
To the cries – “Bravo,” to the verses,
Which are close to all of us…
You tell me, friend Horace,
What is the secret of these scenery,
Who changed the world,
I noticed – both muses and lire…
They took us into a fairy tale,
Sometimes they talked to us
The fact that life is full of spring,
And there is a cure for longing…
That there are problems in this world,
That twice two – always four…
We are not changing this account,
That God has his own calculation…
That there are villains and heroes,
They came to our world – from Troy…
After all, the theater came here,
From the Greeks – in the flame of fire…
And this fire is burning to this day
Changing goals in this world,
Carrying culture and dreams,
Laughing at the symbol of war…
We froze from Shakespeare,
Sometimes from a bright idol,
Which, here yesterday played,
It’s a pity, but everything has its own ending…
But the memory, as if a film,
Sometimes an engagement awaits,
To remind this room,
In which I recognized the world…
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