Andrei Guberman, an informal poet, always viewed the world from a unique perspective. His poems about women are not saccharine declarations of love, but rather ironic sketches, portraits of strong, independent, and sometimes tragic heroines. They lack idealization, but instead offer a living, recognizable truth about the female soul, its contradictions and aspirations. Guberman sees women not only as objects of desire but also as complex individuals, capable of profound feelings and actions. His poems are a unique hymn to feminine beauty, intelligence, and resilience.
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About the redhead
About the redhead who passed by like summer thunder, Leaving a tremor and a rift in my heart. About the redhead who laughed out of place, And the sunset burned in her hair. She promised nothing, Just a fleeting glimmer of one thing. But this glimmer, bright and wild, Will be remembered forever, my dear.
Letter to the Lady with the Dog
A letter to a lady with a dog, slightly touched by melancholy. She writes of little things, of a quiet and simple life. Of her dog's barking, of a new dress, of flowers. And between the lines – the unspoken, of days lost in life.
Old photograph
An old photograph, faded light, It shows a young, happy woman, no? But at the corners of her lips is a faint shadow of sadness, Like a premonition of a bitter century. She looks into the future, not knowing what awaits, What losses and pains she bears. And I look at her, as if in a mirror of time, And see in her eyes a reflection of mine.
In a cafe
In a café, at a table by the window, she sits, quiet and modest. She reads a book, drinks cognac, and in her eyes – a sign of sadness. I watch from afar, not daring to disturb her distance. She is like a secret, like a mirage, inaccessible, like experience.
Her portrait
Her portrait is painted with rain, And the colors of autumn, full of fire. It contains pride and tenderness, and a slight reproach, And the mystery that eternally draws us into this argument. She does not like empty words and phrases; she prefers silence, a quiet story. And in every movement there is grace, presence, And it is impossible not to notice it.
She left
She left without a word, Just a soft sigh, as if the foundation of everything that was had collapsed in an instant. Only a cold scream remained. And I stand as if captive, Not knowing what to do, what to cling to. She left, and my world grew dim, And in my heart the bumblebee remained forever.
Two meetings
Two meetings – chance and fate, Two women – a delicate flower And the thorns of passion, and a storm in the eyes. And the choice is only in our own hands. One – like a dream, like a bright deception, The other – like a challenge, like an eternal romance. And I stand at a crossroads, Not knowing who is closer, who is dear.
Night guest
A night guest, gliding like a shadow, burst into my soul without asking. With eyes full of stars and wine, She is like a riddle, like silence. And I forgot about everything in the world, Only about her gentle silhouette. But with the first rays of dawn, She disappeared, as if she had never been.
Her silence
Her silence is louder than any words, It contains pain and resentment, and a shroud of sadness. She does not forgive empty promises, She values only sincerity and confession. And I stand, as if guilty, Not knowing how to fix everything, how to soften my gaze. Her silence is a sentence and a lesson, And in my heart there is only ice and an empty corner.
She and the sea
She and the sea are two kindred spirits, They contain strength and passion, and the storms of the wilderness. She stands on the shore, alone, And watches the waves recede into the moon. In her eyes is a reflection of the waves, Her heart is full of sorrow. She is like the sea, free and wild, And impossible to tame, she is great.
In her hands
In her hands lies fate, like sand, and time flows like a quiet stream. She knows how to love and forgive, and the fire in her heart never fades. She is like an angel descended from heaven, bringing kindness and miracles to the world. And I am ready to serve her forever, for infinity is in her eyes.
Autumn Lady
An autumn lady in a cloak of leaves, With sadness in her eyes and longing in the silence. She wanders through the park, alone, And remembers summer, the days gone by. In her heart are withered roses, In her soul are frozen dreams. But within her still lives the hope That happiness will return, as before.
Her smile
Her smile is like a ray of sunshine, dispelling sorrow and chasing away clouds. She knows how to give joy and light, and leaves its mark on the heart. She is like a fairy tale, like a wondrous dream, in her lies magic, mystery, and eternal reverence. And I am ready to serve her forever, in her smile lies my infinity.
She and the rain
She and the rain are two sad souls, In them - sadness and melancholy, and the storms of the wilderness. She stands in the rain, alone, And cries, as if forever. The rain washes the tears from her face, And carries away all her dreams. She is like the rain, fickle and evil, And it is impossible to understand her, bright.
Last letter
The last letter, a page covered in writing, It contains pain and farewell, and a bitter whistle. She writes that it's all over, That there will be no more love, no more sun. And I read these lines like a sentence, And I understand that I lost her, like space. The last letter is like a last breath, And in my heart there is only ice and an empty trap.