Who is Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov

Konstantin Nikolayevich Batyushkov (Russian: Константи́н Никола́евич Ба́тюшков, IPA: [kənstɐnʲˈtʲin nʲɪkɐˈla(j)ɪvʲɪtɕ ˈbatʲʊʂkəf] (listen); 29 May [O.S. 18 May] 1787 – 19 July [O.S. 7 July] 1855) was a Russian poet, essayist and translator of the Romantic era. He also served in the diplomatic corps, spending an extended period in 1818 and 1819 as a secretary to the Russian diplomatic mission at Naples.

Biography

The early years of Konstantin Batyushkov's life are difficult to reconstruct. He probably spent the first four years of his life in Vologda; the exact place he lived from 1792 to 1796 is unknown: possibly with his father, possibly with his grandfather, Lev Andreyevich Batyushkov, on their family estate, th...
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Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov Poems

  • Tasso Dying
    What festival is ancient Rome preparing?
    Where flow the crowds in noisy waves?
    Why these aromas, myrrh's sweet smoke
    And censers all around abrim with fragrant herbs? ...
  • Know'st Thou What Gray Methuselah
    Know'st thou what gray Methuselah
    Pronounced when parting with this life?
    Man's born a slave,
    He dies a slave, ...
  • The Friend's Shadow
    Sunt aliquid manes; letum non omnia finit;
    Luridaque evictos effugit umbra rogos.
    PROPERTIUS.
    _ __ ...
  • The Farewell
    BENT o'er his sabre, torrents starting
    From his dim eyes, the bold hussar
    Thus greets his cherish'd maid, while parting
    For distant fields of war: ...
  • Recovery
    As a wild flower hangs its head and wilts
    Beneath the reaper's killing scythe,
    Ill, I awaited my untimely end
    And thought: the fateful hour's nigh. ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov

Love 6 I Love You 6 Joy 5 Life 4 Soul 4 Golden 4 Bright 4 Heart 4 Sweet 3 Grave 3


Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov Quotes

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Comments about Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov

Ingo_don: — konstantin nikolaevich batiushkov (29/5/1787 - 19/7/1855) "my inspiration o recollection of the heart! you're stronger than reason's cheerless recollection. your sweetness oft enchants me in a far-off land. i recollect her voice, her precious words, i recollect her … —
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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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