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Сестра моя жизнь
Эта книга представляет собой историю жизни и творчества Бориса Пастернака, отраженную в его стихах, прозе и письмах. Приведены отрывки из воспоминаний современников. Материалы подобраны с тем, чтобы показать творческий процесс создания произведений поэта на основе событий его жизни, как и из чего «растут стихи». В них отразились его мысли и состояние души, которые одновременно были закреплены в письмах Пастернака разным людям и в его прозе.
136 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1922
10 people are currently reading
958 people want to read
About the author
Boris Pasternak
596 books1,603 followersBoris Leonidovich Pasternak was born in Moscow to talented artists: his father a painter and illustrator of Tolstoy's works, his mother a well-known concert pianist. Though his parents were both Jewish, they became Christianized, first as Russian Orthodox and later as Tolstoyan Christians. Pasternak's education began in a German Gymnasium in Moscow and was continued at the University of Moscow. Under the influence of the composer Scriabin, Pasternak took up the study of musical composition for six years from 1904 to 1910. By 1912 he had renounced music as his calling in life and went to the University of Marburg, Germany, to study philosophy. After four months there and a trip to Italy, he returned to Russia and decided to dedicate himself to literature.
Pasternak's first books of verse went unnoticed. With My Sister Life, 1922, and Themes and Variations, 1923, the latter marked by an extreme, though sober style, Pasternak first gained a place as a leading poet among his Russian contemporaries. In 1924 he published Sublime Malady, which portrayed the 1905 revolt as he saw it, and The Childhood of Luvers, a lyrical and psychological depiction of a young girl on the threshold of womanhood. A collection of four short stories was published the following year under the title Aerial Ways. In 1927 Pasternak again returned to the revolution of 1905 as a subject for two long works: "Lieutenant Schmidt", a poem expressing threnodic sorrow for the fate of the Lieutenant, the leader of the mutiny at Sevastopol, and "The Year 1905", a powerful but diffuse poem which concentrates on the events related to the revolution of 1905. Pasternak's reticent autobiography, Safe Conduct, appeared in 1931, and was followed the next year by a collection of lyrics, Second Birth, 1932. In 1935 he published translations of some Georgian poets and subsequently translated the major dramas of Shakespeare, several of the works of Goethe, Schiller, Kleist, and Ben Jonson, and poems by Petöfi, Verlaine, Swinburne, Shelley, and others. In Early Trains, a collection of poems written since 1936, was published in 1943 and enlarged and reissued in 1945 as Wide Spaces of the Earth. In 1957 Doctor Zhivago, Pasternak's only novel - except for the earlier "novel in verse", Spektorsky (1926) - first appeared in an Italian translation and has been acclaimed by some critics as a successful attempt at combining lyrical-descriptive and epic-dramatic styles.
Pasternak lived in Peredelkino, near Moscow, until his death in 1960.
Pasternak's first books of verse went unnoticed. With My Sister Life, 1922, and Themes and Variations, 1923, the latter marked by an extreme, though sober style, Pasternak first gained a place as a leading poet among his Russian contemporaries. In 1924 he published Sublime Malady, which portrayed the 1905 revolt as he saw it, and The Childhood of Luvers, a lyrical and psychological depiction of a young girl on the threshold of womanhood. A collection of four short stories was published the following year under the title Aerial Ways. In 1927 Pasternak again returned to the revolution of 1905 as a subject for two long works: "Lieutenant Schmidt", a poem expressing threnodic sorrow for the fate of the Lieutenant, the leader of the mutiny at Sevastopol, and "The Year 1905", a powerful but diffuse poem which concentrates on the events related to the revolution of 1905. Pasternak's reticent autobiography, Safe Conduct, appeared in 1931, and was followed the next year by a collection of lyrics, Second Birth, 1932. In 1935 he published translations of some Georgian poets and subsequently translated the major dramas of Shakespeare, several of the works of Goethe, Schiller, Kleist, and Ben Jonson, and poems by Petöfi, Verlaine, Swinburne, Shelley, and others. In Early Trains, a collection of poems written since 1936, was published in 1943 and enlarged and reissued in 1945 as Wide Spaces of the Earth. In 1957 Doctor Zhivago, Pasternak's only novel - except for the earlier "novel in verse", Spektorsky (1926) - first appeared in an Italian translation and has been acclaimed by some critics as a successful attempt at combining lyrical-descriptive and epic-dramatic styles.
Pasternak lived in Peredelkino, near Moscow, until his death in 1960.
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
February 12, 2020
In everything I seek to reach
The fundamental,
In work
And in love.
I look for the past,
Its causes,
Its roots,
The heart of the matter.
I look for
Life's thread—
Thinking, feeling
And loving.
If only I could,
I would like to write
Eight lines
About the nature of passion.
About pursuit and fleeing,
Unlawful loving,
Chance encounters,
Elbows and palms.
Establishing the laws,
The origins of passion,
I would like to write
Passion's initials.
I would build my poem
Like a garden:
The rows of lindens
Would shimmer and burst into bloom.
In my poem
There would be roses,
Mint, freshly mowed meadows,
The rolling of thunder.
In his études thus
Chopin conjured
Country houses, graves,
Miracles, parks.
Between games and suffering,
An instant of triumph—
The singing
Of a taut bowstring.
January 30, 2012
I love Pasternak's poetry. This is his early, wild, unhinged work. Or at least, unhinged to me! But I did love two poems: "English Lessons" and "Storm, an Endless Instant." Simply beautiful.
I also looked at other translators' versions of these poems, a shocking tour. Rudman and Boychuk seem to shine here, eliciting the elegance and power of Pasternak as a poet.
I also looked at other translators' versions of these poems, a shocking tour. Rudman and Boychuk seem to shine here, eliciting the elegance and power of Pasternak as a poet.
January 2, 2012
The 1917 collection 'My Sister--Life' was considered, until the publication of Dr. Zhivago, Boris Pasternak's greatest work--and Dr. Zhivago did not appear in Russia until 1988. These poems give us Pasternak's tenderness, his clarity, his soulfulness--he doesn't thunder like Mayakovsky, he doesn't have the fevered quality of Tsvetayeva, with whom he had a passionate correspondence after she'd left Russia, he doesn't keen like Akhmatova, or knit puzzles like Mandelstam... His handwriting on the inside flaps seems to bear the mark of the man--even, clear, thoughtful, flowing, readable.
About writing, Pasternak has said, (see Modern Russian Poets on Poetry) "We represent people in order to throw a cloak of weather upon them. Weather--or what is the same thing, nature--we represent in order to throw our passion upon its shoulders. We drag the everyday into prose for the sake of poetry. We draw prose into poetry for the sake of music. This is what, in the broadest sense of the word, I called art." My Sister--Life certainly gives evidence to this.
This volume in particular also contains the poem "A Sublime Malady", written between 1923 and 1928, about the revolution. I love these stanzas:
"...this is the sublime malady.
I wanted to be like everyone else,
but our glorious age
is stronger than my grief
and tries to mimic me.
....
We were the music of thought
and sought to sweep the stairs,
but as the cold froze,
ice blurred the passage.
....
The new feeds the row of ages,
but its golden pie, wolfed down
before tradition can steep the sauce,
sticks in your throat."
This edition of P book is an Ardis publication, as were most books in English by Soviet writers at the time (pre-perestroika), published in 1983. The publishing house in itself was singular and irreplaceable. The life's work of the scholarly couple Carl and Ellendea Proffer out of Ann Arbor, Michigan, they set themselves the double task to publish the Russian canon of the Silver Age in Russian for Russians, books impossible to find in the Soviet Union--Tsvetaeva, Akhmatova, Mandelstam--their first book was Nabokov's Ada--as well as publishing Soviet writers translated into English--such as Pasternak, Shklovsky, Olesha and and Bulgakov's annotated The Master and Margarita... over 400 titles, half english, half in Russian. Evidently Carl Proffer sponsored Brodsky's coming to America and got him his first job at U. of Mich. He died shortly after this Pasternak was published in 1983, but she won a MacArthur genius award in 1989.
My only quarrel with this book is that it would have been great if they'd published it as a bilingual edition. It's impossible to translate everything in a poem, to get meaning and voice and meter and rhyme--and my Russian's no way good enough to read Pasternak in the original, but it would have been fantastic to at least see the words on the page, get a sense of the music, the rhyme scheme--the music really suffers in translation.
About writing, Pasternak has said, (see Modern Russian Poets on Poetry) "We represent people in order to throw a cloak of weather upon them. Weather--or what is the same thing, nature--we represent in order to throw our passion upon its shoulders. We drag the everyday into prose for the sake of poetry. We draw prose into poetry for the sake of music. This is what, in the broadest sense of the word, I called art." My Sister--Life certainly gives evidence to this.
This volume in particular also contains the poem "A Sublime Malady", written between 1923 and 1928, about the revolution. I love these stanzas:
"...this is the sublime malady.
I wanted to be like everyone else,
but our glorious age
is stronger than my grief
and tries to mimic me.
....
We were the music of thought
and sought to sweep the stairs,
but as the cold froze,
ice blurred the passage.
....
The new feeds the row of ages,
but its golden pie, wolfed down
before tradition can steep the sauce,
sticks in your throat."
This edition of P book is an Ardis publication, as were most books in English by Soviet writers at the time (pre-perestroika), published in 1983. The publishing house in itself was singular and irreplaceable. The life's work of the scholarly couple Carl and Ellendea Proffer out of Ann Arbor, Michigan, they set themselves the double task to publish the Russian canon of the Silver Age in Russian for Russians, books impossible to find in the Soviet Union--Tsvetaeva, Akhmatova, Mandelstam--their first book was Nabokov's Ada--as well as publishing Soviet writers translated into English--such as Pasternak, Shklovsky, Olesha and and Bulgakov's annotated The Master and Margarita... over 400 titles, half english, half in Russian. Evidently Carl Proffer sponsored Brodsky's coming to America and got him his first job at U. of Mich. He died shortly after this Pasternak was published in 1983, but she won a MacArthur genius award in 1989.
My only quarrel with this book is that it would have been great if they'd published it as a bilingual edition. It's impossible to translate everything in a poem, to get meaning and voice and meter and rhyme--and my Russian's no way good enough to read Pasternak in the original, but it would have been fantastic to at least see the words on the page, get a sense of the music, the rhyme scheme--the music really suffers in translation.
April 17, 2020
я не была и не стала любительницей поэзии Пастернака, но благодаря этой книге захотела прочитать его прозу. столько глубины и трепета в его словах. отдельная безграничная благодарность за контекст и комментарии о событиях из его жизни и текстах, собранных в этом издании.
June 5, 2023
Sister: Genteel loves and animated nature in town, dacha, steppe. Malady: Impressionistic response to revolution.
August 15, 2011
Breathtaking poems of ethereal light and being inhabit this collection from Boris Pasternak. Osip Mandelstam said, "To read the poems of Pasternak is to get one's throat clear , to fortify one's breathing. . . I see Pasternak's My Sister--Life as a collection of magnificent exercises in breathing . . . a cure for tuberculosis." These poems are enchanting; the product of the early life of Pasternak. There is a clarity in the translations of Mark Rudman with Bohdan Boychuk that allow Pasternak's "breathing" which I sense as almost a sort of singing voice to pierce through the boundary between languages. The result is the poet's voice is present in its most passionate form thrilling the reader with images of love and loss; foreshadowing the changes that would soon engulf the world of his family, friends, and fellow citizens as the Great War would end and bring with it the upheavals in the political world of the Russian Empire. This is a beautiful collection of poems that provides a counterweight to the more familiar Pasternak of Doctor Zhivago and his other later work.
April 10, 2025
Очень природно-эротично
October 18, 2014
Essential reading for fans of
Doctor Zhivago
, this influential 1922 debut collection of Pasternak’s poetry remains startling in its nature mysticism and life-force exuberance (Pasternak’s exhortation in the poem “Sparrow Hills” to “Get your soul in motion, stretch it like a sail!” is like Walt Whitman as a caffeinated Zoomba instructor). Translator Mark Rudman (who co-translated the text in 1983 with Ukrainian poet Bohdan Boychuk) in his informative preface says Pasternak was “enchanted” when he wrote these poems, which, he suggests, manage to be both “wild and controlled.” The voice will be familiar to Zhivago readers. The novel’s final chapter with its compendium of Zhivago’s poetry is pitched in a similar ecstatic vein.
November 22, 2024
"
زندگی خواهر من است
زندگی، خواهر من است و اینک در طغیان به کردار بانان بهاران بر همگان فروباریده.
اما آنها با آویزههای سنگین
لندلندکنان
چون ماران در جوزاران
با نزاکت نیش میزنند.
آنها بهانههای خود را دارند
بی هیچ تردیدی انگیزۀ تو مایۀ خنده است.
هنگام صاعقه، چشمها و چمنها بنفشفام میشود
و افق، رایحۀ اسپرک مرطوب دارد.
در ماه مه در مسیر خط آهن کامی شینسک
هنگامی که برنامههای قطارها را میخوانی
برنامه باشکوهتر از کتاب مقدس جلوه میکند.
پس دگرباره تمام از سر برخوان."
زندگی خواهر من است
زندگی، خواهر من است و اینک در طغیان به کردار بانان بهاران بر همگان فروباریده.
اما آنها با آویزههای سنگین
لندلندکنان
چون ماران در جوزاران
با نزاکت نیش میزنند.
آنها بهانههای خود را دارند
بی هیچ تردیدی انگیزۀ تو مایۀ خنده است.
هنگام صاعقه، چشمها و چمنها بنفشفام میشود
و افق، رایحۀ اسپرک مرطوب دارد.
در ماه مه در مسیر خط آهن کامی شینسک
هنگامی که برنامههای قطارها را میخوانی
برنامه باشکوهتر از کتاب مقدس جلوه میکند.
پس دگرباره تمام از سر برخوان."
December 3, 2014
I am not a fan of poetry so I got this just to read the bio on Pasternak, which was short but interesting. It had cool pictures, don't know why the poetry is acclaimed but of course Boris is a phenom in handling Dr Zhivago.
August 17, 2012
I cannot speak to the accuracy of this translation. However, particularly when compared to so many other translations of Pasternak's poetry I've encountered, this version [Rudman & Boychuk] flows, providing at the very least a glimpse of why Pasternak was so highly regarded in his day.
May 6, 2009
Magical. I can't even imagine what it must be like in Russian.
June 9, 2012
I have the bilingual edition of this (an old hardcover). Perhaps not my favorite poet but still very important in my development.
December 9, 2015
csodás versek!!
December 16, 2020
Interesting read but the English translator was too faithful in preserving what was literally said in the original, rather than preserving rhythm and rhyme, which made it awful as poetry.
April 27, 2024
Довольно известная книга стихов, которая на поверку показалась мне довольно слабой. Написанная буквально по просьбе возлюбленной Елены Виноград, упрекавшей Борю в "непонятности стихов", эта подборка будто специально сведена к чувственной сентиментальности и формальной простоте.
Но написана она еще в тот период, когда самому Пастернаку ближе кубистическая, изобретательно-напряженная манера. Из-за этого впечатления от сборника сильно размываются. Хотя искренности в стихах хватает, это искренность чувства, а не искренность самого поэтического высказывания. Сами по себе сильные чувства — не то, что делает Пастернака великим, возможно величайшим русским поэтом ХХ века.
Вероятно, читателям и коллегам, уставшим от изжившего себя к 22 году запутанного авангардизма, эта "новая искренность" подошла как необходимое лекарство. Столетие спустя его влияние я пока бы расценил как паллиатив. Кажется, что, чем дальше русская поэзия уходила от безусловной высоты, взятой в серебряном веке, тем ниже опускался её средний уровень (за вычетом эмиграции, растущей в собственной теплице). Впрочем, теперь почитать лирику Мандельштама и Цветаевой ранних двадцатых мне будет интереснее: сравню, повлияла ли на них «Сестра» в худшую сторону или, напротив, помогла раскрепоститься от прежних условностей.
Внимательнее знакомясь с Пастернаком, я задумался над тем, что лично для меня составляет суть поэзии, и почему для меня в этой его книге её оказалось маловато. Мои рассуждения оказались таковы: поэзия, в первую очередь — это магия, в гносеологическом смысле. Она передаёт тебе чей-то субъективный опыт через предельно точную фиксацию пограничных с реальностью состояний. И хорошая поэзия сама тебя в это пограничное состояние вводит.
Как указывает соседство в названии легендарной компьютерной саги: Heroes of Might and Magic, для хорошей Магии необходима Сила. Мне кажется, что непосредственная Сила поэзии — это главное её качество, по которой её и имеет смысл оценивать.
Предыдущий сборник Пастернака, «Поверх Барьеров», меня впечатлил намного сильнее. Там есть сложные и довольно запутанные куски, но там есть и куски абсолютно магнетической силы, собранные или, скорее, сведенные с жуткой и ощутимой энергией. Вот это настоящий ранний Пастернак: чарующий кубист, строчки которого гудят, словотворчества которого закручены в каменные формы, как, выражаясь языком любимого мной Бена Лившица, дилювиальные пласты.
Немолчный, алчный, скучный хрип
Тоскливый лязг и стук ножовый,
И сталкивающихся глыб
Скрежещущие пережёвы.
Пью горечь тубероз, небес осенних горечь
И в них твоих измен горящую струю.
Пью горечь вечеров, ночей и людных сборищ,
Рыдающей строфы сырую горечь пью
Вот это — сильно! Дальше, я знаю, у Пастернака еще будет естественная простота и сила, но здесь, в раннем сборнике такой подход выглядит упрощением. За исключением пары очень сильных идей, которые он использует в стихах «Как у Них», а особенно в стихотворении «Гроза, Моментальная Навек» — там оттянутая в четыре строки четверная рифма, имитирующая сначала всплески молнии, а потом громовые раскаты по их следам. Придумать это и с пушкинским блеском воплотить:
А затем прощалось —— лето
С полустанком. Снявши — — шапку,
Сто слепящих фото —— графий
Ночью снял на память —— гром.
Меркла кисть сирени. —— B это
Время он, нарвав —— охапку
Молний, с поля ими —— трафил
Озарить управский —— дом.
ABCD, ABCD — это очень искусная поэзия, и великолепное мастерство, которому надо просто аплодировать.
Но в целом, по сборнику: слабо, блёкло и попсово. А ведь только что показывал, что можешь иначе. Ну, хорошо хоть много чего дальше написал, знаю точно в тридцатых есть очень сильные стихи, доберемся. Читаю всего Пастернака сейчас, посмотрим, куда заведут следующие сборники.
Но написана она еще в тот период, когда самому Пастернаку ближе кубистическая, изобретательно-напряженная манера. Из-за этого впечатления от сборника сильно размываются. Хотя искренности в стихах хватает, это искренность чувства, а не искренность самого поэтического высказывания. Сами по себе сильные чувства — не то, что делает Пастернака великим, возможно величайшим русским поэтом ХХ века.
Вероятно, читателям и коллегам, уставшим от изжившего себя к 22 году запутанного авангардизма, эта "новая искренность" подошла как необходимое лекарство. Столетие спустя его влияние я пока бы расценил как паллиатив. Кажется, что, чем дальше русская поэзия уходила от безусловной высоты, взятой в серебряном веке, тем ниже опускался её средний уровень (за вычетом эмиграции, растущей в собственной теплице). Впрочем, теперь почитать лирику Мандельштама и Цветаевой ранних двадцатых мне будет интереснее: сравню, повлияла ли на них «Сестра» в худшую сторону или, напротив, помогла раскрепоститься от прежних условностей.
Внимательнее знакомясь с Пастернаком, я задумался над тем, что лично для меня составляет суть поэзии, и почему для меня в этой его книге её оказалось маловато. Мои рассуждения оказались таковы: поэзия, в первую очередь — это магия, в гносеологическом смысле. Она передаёт тебе чей-то субъективный опыт через предельно точную фиксацию пограничных с реальностью состояний. И хорошая поэзия сама тебя в это пограничное состояние вводит.
Как указывает соседство в названии легендарной компьютерной саги: Heroes of Might and Magic, для хорошей Магии необходима Сила. Мне кажется, что непосредственная Сила поэзии — это главное её качество, по которой её и имеет смысл оценивать.
Предыдущий сборник Пастернака, «Поверх Барьеров», меня впечатлил намного сильнее. Там есть сложные и довольно запутанные куски, но там есть и куски абсолютно магнетической силы, собранные или, скорее, сведенные с жуткой и ощутимой энергией. Вот это настоящий ранний Пастернак: чарующий кубист, строчки которого гудят, словотворчества которого закручены в каменные формы, как, выражаясь языком любимого мной Бена Лившица, дилювиальные пласты.
Немолчный, алчный, скучный хрип
Тоскливый лязг и стук ножовый,
И сталкивающихся глыб
Скрежещущие пережёвы.
Пью горечь тубероз, небес осенних горечь
И в них твоих измен горящую струю.
Пью горечь вечеров, ночей и людных сборищ,
Рыдающей строфы сырую горечь пью
Вот это — сильно! Дальше, я знаю, у Пастернака еще будет естественная простота и сила, но здесь, в раннем сборнике такой подход выглядит упрощением. За исключением пары очень сильных идей, которые он использует в стихах «Как у Них», а особенно в стихотворении «Гроза, Моментальная Навек» — там оттянутая в четыре строки четверная рифма, имитирующая сначала всплески молнии, а потом громовые раскаты по их следам. Придумать это и с пушкинским блеском воплотить:
А затем прощалось —— лето
С полустанком. Снявши — — шапку,
Сто слепящих фото —— графий
Ночью снял на память —— гром.
Меркла кисть сирени. —— B это
Время он, нарвав —— охапку
Молний, с поля ими —— трафил
Озарить управский —— дом.
ABCD, ABCD — это очень искусная поэзия, и великолепное мастерство, которому надо просто аплодировать.
Но в целом, по сборнику: слабо, блёкло и попсово. А ведь только что показывал, что можешь иначе. Ну, хорошо хоть много чего дальше написал, знаю точно в тридцатых есть очень сильные стихи, доберемся. Читаю всего Пастернака сейчас, посмотрим, куда заведут следующие сборники.
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July 28, 2020This is Pasternak's first book of poems. Many of them are about rainstorms in his garden. Don't tell anyone, but I found them fairly boring. (But really who knows what relation the English verses I read have to the Russian verses Pasternak wrote?)
April 26, 2022
This early cycle of poems indicates strongly the course of a career. Also, i begin to understand how the Russian people revere and appreciate BP.The cycle writtenbefore the October revolution id balanced out by the incusion of "The Highest Sickness" which was written and published in 1923.
July 14, 2020
Even as someone with only a rudimentary appreciation for poetry, this is a work of pure magic. The English translation’s prose and cadence is masterful. I truly love this book.
June 27, 2022
6,5/10
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February 19, 2023Traducción de 1991 que consigue replicar con envidiable clarividencia el estilo de Google Translaror. Gracias, Alfar, por hacer una edición bilingue.
September 11, 2023
" Io le pregavo -
non mi tormentate.
Non riesco a dormire.
Ma - cadeva fitta la pioggia,e segnando il passo
andavano le nubi sul mercato polveroso,
come reclute, al mattino,dietro la masseria.
E vagavano per ore, per secoli,
come prigionieri austriaci,
come flebile rantolo,
come il rantolo:
" Dav bere,
sorella" .
non mi tormentate.
Non riesco a dormire.
Ma - cadeva fitta la pioggia,e segnando il passo
andavano le nubi sul mercato polveroso,
come reclute, al mattino,dietro la masseria.
E vagavano per ore, per secoli,
come prigionieri austriaci,
come flebile rantolo,
come il rantolo:
" Dav bere,
sorella" .
January 6, 2021
(Phillip C. Flayderman translation).
The formula for this collection of poems is that there is no formula. (I told myself I wouldn't include the word "paradox" in this review but I began with one! Pasternak!). Each word makes it to a logical next-word conclusion, but the poetry lives in that bridge between words. If you love the feeling of calm during a summer-storm you should get yourself into this book. Does the melancholy make Pasternak rhythmically mad? These poems work by offering a swirling of images, and there is a glint of a subject present, enough to give definition to the whirlwind and solve it. A collection you can come back to with perspective. Looking forward to Doctor Zhivago (maybe next year!).
The formula for this collection of poems is that there is no formula. (I told myself I wouldn't include the word "paradox" in this review but I began with one! Pasternak!). Each word makes it to a logical next-word conclusion, but the poetry lives in that bridge between words. If you love the feeling of calm during a summer-storm you should get yourself into this book. Does the melancholy make Pasternak rhythmically mad? These poems work by offering a swirling of images, and there is a glint of a subject present, enough to give definition to the whirlwind and solve it. A collection you can come back to with perspective. Looking forward to Doctor Zhivago (maybe next year!).
May 16, 2024
Pasternak's greatest muse and mistress was nature. And when poetry abandoned him for nearly a decade, it was to nature he turned to in Peredelkino, it was nature that replenished him.
This book, one of his first (written in 1917, published in 1922) is arguably about human passion, but nature already transpires through it at every turn. It is the steppe that judges, the August leaves dream, the storm is like a priest, the cherry trees bark, one grows as numb as the sweltering sky and rakes up the residue of years like pinecones, even the hours skip past like stones.
But this is an ungrateful book to read in translation - it is difficult to see what the fuss is all about, why it was so important for Russian poets and critics when it came out, why Mandelshtam said it fortified one's breathing and was "a cure for tuberculosis", why it made Tsvetaeva say he was a poet "at the moment bigger than any other" (See "Downpour of Light" in Art in the Light of Conscience: Eight Essays on Poetry) and fall in love with him.
But oh well, the unconsolable incommunicability of Russian poetical mastery is nothing we are not used to with Pushkin sensei.
Maybe I don't really love—I pray
when lovers kiss. The mollusc,
not for an hour, not for eternity,
floats by in joyful light.
This book, one of his first (written in 1917, published in 1922) is arguably about human passion, but nature already transpires through it at every turn. It is the steppe that judges, the August leaves dream, the storm is like a priest, the cherry trees bark, one grows as numb as the sweltering sky and rakes up the residue of years like pinecones, even the hours skip past like stones.
My sister—life today floods over
and bursts on everyone ub spring rain
But this is an ungrateful book to read in translation - it is difficult to see what the fuss is all about, why it was so important for Russian poets and critics when it came out, why Mandelshtam said it fortified one's breathing and was "a cure for tuberculosis", why it made Tsvetaeva say he was a poet "at the moment bigger than any other" (See "Downpour of Light" in Art in the Light of Conscience: Eight Essays on Poetry) and fall in love with him.
But oh well, the unconsolable incommunicability of Russian poetical mastery is nothing we are not used to with Pushkin sensei.
December 8, 2023
I recognize the beauty in the words chosen. But ultimately, I held no deeper understanding of the majority of the poems. I read quite a bit of poetry and this is one of the first times I have felt this specific way of being unable to "get" the poem, so I am wondering if maybe it is the difference that this was produced in a foreign language for me.
May 27, 2012
2/10, didn't connect at all.
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