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Life, Life: Selected Poems
LIFE, LIFE A book of poetry by Russian poet Arseny Tarkovsky, translated by Virginia Rounding. Includes many poems used in Arseny's son's films (Andrei Tarkovsky). With a bibliography of both Arseny and his son Andrei Tarkovsky, and illustrations from Tarkovsky's movies. This is one of the very few translations in English of poetry by Arseny Tarkovsky available. FROM THE Arseny Aleksandrovich Tarkovsky was was born in June 1907 in Elizavetgrad, later named Kirovograd. He studied at the Academy of Literature in Moscow from 1925 to 1929, and also worked in the editorial office of the journal Gudok. He was well respected as a translator, especially of the Oriental classics, but was little known as a poet for most of his life, being unable to get any of his own work published during the Stalinist era. His poems did not begin to appear in book form until he was over fifty. His son, the film director Andrei Tarkovsky, made extensive use of his father's in some of his films, and certain of his diary entries indicate the esteem in which the poet was held in the Soviet Union towards the end of his life. An entry written after Andrei had given a talk at the Moscow Physical Institute in 1980, for instance, reproduces the following note from a member of the 'An enormous number of people in this hall admire Arseny Aleksandrovich Tarkovsky as a great Russian poet. Please convey our respects to him.' One of the few recorded public appearances of Arseny Tarkovsky was at the funeral of Anna Akhmatova; he was one of three writers deputed to accompany her coffin from Domodedovo to Leningrad, and he read both at her funeral in Komarovo and at the first evening held in her memory in Moscow. He died in 1989 and is now beginning to be recognised as one of the many significant Russian poets of the twentieth century. From the poem ;Ignatyevo Forest': The last leaves' embers in total immolation Rise into the sky; this whole forest Seethes with irritation, just as we did That last year we lived together. Illustrated. With bibliography and notes. ISBN 9781861714300. www.crmoon.com
116 pages, Paperback
First published December 31, 2001
About the author
Arseny Tarkovsky
44 books78 followersArseny Alexandrovich Tarkovsky (Russian: Арсений Александрович Тарковский, June 25 [O.S. June 12] 1907, Elisavetgrad – May 27, 1989, Moscow) was a prominent Russian poet and translator. His poems appeared in the films The Mirror and Stalker, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, his son.
He was a friend of Marina Tsvetaeva, and is sometimes referred to as the "Last Love of Marina Tsvetaeva". Being younger than Anna Akhmatova and Marina Tsvetayeva he imbibed the poetic traditions of the Silver Age generation and interpreted them through the prism of his personality in his creativity.
He composed his own poetry throughout his life, but did not publish it until his fifties.
He was a friend of Marina Tsvetaeva, and is sometimes referred to as the "Last Love of Marina Tsvetaeva". Being younger than Anna Akhmatova and Marina Tsvetayeva he imbibed the poetic traditions of the Silver Age generation and interpreted them through the prism of his personality in his creativity.
He composed his own poetry throughout his life, but did not publish it until his fifties.
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
August 28, 2022
This guy is All That. This poem is so superlatively HUGE..I love his poems. I wish I could read precisely Russian so I could understand the original
Our parents have an incredible effect on who we grow up to be. Tarkovsky's films are impressively influenced by his parents, without his father's poetry they would be missing a part to them.
Our parents have an incredible effect on who we grow up to be. Tarkovsky's films are impressively influenced by his parents, without his father's poetry they would be missing a part to them.
January 2, 2009
I recently watched the movie "Stalker" by Andrei Tarkovsky and fell in love with it. The director inserts a poem from his father at the end of the movie, sadly absent from this collection of poems:
"Now the summer has passed.
It might never have been.
It is warm in the sun,
But it isn’t enough.
All that might’ve occurred
Like a five-fingered leaf
Fluttered into my hands,
But it isn’t enough.
Neither evil nor good
Has yet vanished in vain,
It all burned and was light,
But it isn’t enough.
Life has been as a shield,
And has offered protection.
I have been most fortunate,
But it isn’t enough.
The leaves were not burned.
The boughs were not broken,
The day clear as glass,
But it isn’t enough."
"Now the summer has passed.
It might never have been.
It is warm in the sun,
But it isn’t enough.
All that might’ve occurred
Like a five-fingered leaf
Fluttered into my hands,
But it isn’t enough.
Neither evil nor good
Has yet vanished in vain,
It all burned and was light,
But it isn’t enough.
Life has been as a shield,
And has offered protection.
I have been most fortunate,
But it isn’t enough.
The leaves were not burned.
The boughs were not broken,
The day clear as glass,
But it isn’t enough."
March 27, 2020
اینکه دو تا مجموعه شعر از یه نفر بخونی و توش اشعار تکراری باشه، عجیب نیست. ولی اینکه دو تا مجموعه، از یه انتشارات و یه مترجم باشن و اینهمه شعر تکراری داشته باشن، خیلی تو ذوق میزنه.
یه ستاره رو فقط به این خاطر کم میکنم که خیلی از شعرها با کتابِ «من به سور سوختم» مشترک بودن.
خیلی ساده میتونستن شعرهای مشترک رو حذف کنن و از این دو مجموعه، یه کتاب دربیارن.
یه ستاره رو فقط به این خاطر کم میکنم که خیلی از شعرها با کتابِ «من به سور سوختم» مشترک بودن.
خیلی ساده میتونستن شعرهای مشترک رو حذف کنن و از این دو مجموعه، یه کتاب دربیارن.
March 28, 2019
"I don't believe in omens or fear
Forebodings. I flee from neither slander
Nor from poison. Death does not exist.
Everyone's immortal. Everything is too.
No point in fearing death at seventeen,
Or seventy. There's only here and now, and light;
Neither death, nor darkness, exists.
We're all already on the seashore;
I'm one of those who'll be hauling in the nets
When a shoal of immortality swims by".
Forebodings. I flee from neither slander
Nor from poison. Death does not exist.
Everyone's immortal. Everything is too.
No point in fearing death at seventeen,
Or seventy. There's only here and now, and light;
Neither death, nor darkness, exists.
We're all already on the seashore;
I'm one of those who'll be hauling in the nets
When a shoal of immortality swims by".
January 10, 2025
Tarkovsky taught me to read poetry anew. A profound collection of poetic vision - each poem merits and rewards savoring. Rounding's translation sings and serves as a well-wrought setting for Tarkovsky's soaring images.
July 18, 2025
Some of the most striking and emotionally resonant poetry I have ever read. Tarkovsky deserves to be numbered with the greats. (His genius son's film "Stalker" is one of my favorite movies of all time.)
April 21, 2014
I loved the poetry and the translation seems very good. The edition is strange, though, with only a handful of poor quality pictures of the poet and many more (including front and back covers) from the movies directed by Andrei Tarkovsky...they might have both been obsessed with the same kinds of things, and ANdre's films may have echoed his father's poetry but still. I found that odd and why confound them? And if you will confound them, why leave out the wonderful poem from Stalker? The intro also had a reading of the poems very different from my own, not a critique at all, but not enough detail about the poet and his life. If I want conclusions about his bio from his poetry I'd prefer to come to them myself I think. But I loved Van Gogh breathing his stars, fate coming up from behind brandishing its razor. I loved poems for Marina Tsvetaeva. I loved Life, Life.
October 30, 2020
A gorgeous collection of poems about life. There is nothing much to be said here, other than Tarkovsky Sr. talks about the universe and the human spirit in probably the most comforting way I have ever read. I would love to be able to read them in their original form.
February 4, 2024
What an appalling, makeshift edition is this?
Pictures in ridiculous resolution, selected bibliography of Andrei Tarkovsky edited into the beginning of the book (i.e., you know: he is the son of the poet, so what does he have to do with the poems here?), illustrations from his films to gather some more pages, promo stuff inserted in black-&-white at the end - like if this book had been done with MS Word and a home printer from the 80s. I am really left speechless.
Virginia Rounding's translation are, for me, also much less spirited on the whole than the ones presented in the golden standard for Tarkovsky's poetry in English (see https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...).
There are a few, but surprising exceptions though (e.g., 'And this I dreamt, and this I dream', 'My sight - my strength - grows dim), so I would not call her a charlatan either.
Actually, only for her occasional translator performance, I am overrating this crap-of-a-book and giving it two stars (but note: it should deserve exactly two stars less). Well, for this, and, for the fact that it contains a handful of poems which are otherwise not featured in the other selection - so to an extent, this is still complementing it.
However: Crescent Moon Publishing, I do hope with all my heart that the dawn of readers is coming on you.
Pictures in ridiculous resolution, selected bibliography of Andrei Tarkovsky edited into the beginning of the book (i.e., you know: he is the son of the poet, so what does he have to do with the poems here?), illustrations from his films to gather some more pages, promo stuff inserted in black-&-white at the end - like if this book had been done with MS Word and a home printer from the 80s. I am really left speechless.
Virginia Rounding's translation are, for me, also much less spirited on the whole than the ones presented in the golden standard for Tarkovsky's poetry in English (see https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...).
There are a few, but surprising exceptions though (e.g., 'And this I dreamt, and this I dream', 'My sight - my strength - grows dim), so I would not call her a charlatan either.
Actually, only for her occasional translator performance, I am overrating this crap-of-a-book and giving it two stars (but note: it should deserve exactly two stars less). Well, for this, and, for the fact that it contains a handful of poems which are otherwise not featured in the other selection - so to an extent, this is still complementing it.
However: Crescent Moon Publishing, I do hope with all my heart that the dawn of readers is coming on you.
September 29, 2023
Good stuff, i think
October 1, 2025
"IGNATYEVO FOREST
The last leaves' embers in total immolation
Rise into the sky; this whole forest
Seethes with irritation, just as we did
That last year we lived together.
The path you take's reflected in our tear-filled eyes,
As bushes are reflected in the murky flood-lands.
Don't be difficult, don't touch, don't threaten,
Don't offend the forest silence by the Volga.
You can hear the old life breathing:
Clumps of mushrooms growing in damp grass -
Though gnawed to the very core by slugs,
They still inflame the skin.
All our past is like a threat -
Look, I'm coming, watch, I'll kill you!
The sky shivers and holds a maple, like a rose, -
May it burn still stronger - right into your eyes."
(Pg 33)
Beautiful collection of poems - the order of some will bring about a wind in your soul.
Rest in Peace Arseny Takovsky.
The last leaves' embers in total immolation
Rise into the sky; this whole forest
Seethes with irritation, just as we did
That last year we lived together.
The path you take's reflected in our tear-filled eyes,
As bushes are reflected in the murky flood-lands.
Don't be difficult, don't touch, don't threaten,
Don't offend the forest silence by the Volga.
You can hear the old life breathing:
Clumps of mushrooms growing in damp grass -
Though gnawed to the very core by slugs,
They still inflame the skin.
All our past is like a threat -
Look, I'm coming, watch, I'll kill you!
The sky shivers and holds a maple, like a rose, -
May it burn still stronger - right into your eyes."
(Pg 33)
Beautiful collection of poems - the order of some will bring about a wind in your soul.
Rest in Peace Arseny Takovsky.
Read
November 18, 2009..the magic of human soul is here....speaking in poetic words...
May 25, 2019
Qué forma tan bella de rimar y de celebrar la vida tenía este hombre.
Read
October 8, 2025IGNATYEVO FOREST
The last leaves' embers in total immolation
Rise into the sky; this whole forest
Seethes with irritation, just as we did
That last year we lived together.
The path you take's reflected in our tear filled eyes,
As bushes are reflected in the murky flood-lands.
Don't be difficult, don't touch, don't threaten,
Don't offend the forest silence by the Volga.
You can hear the old life breathing:
Clumps of mushrooms growing in damp grass -
Though gnawed to the very core by slugs,
They still inflame the skin.
All our past is like a threat -
Look, I'm coming, watch, I'll kill you!
The sky shivers and holds a maple, like a rose, -
May it burn still stronger - right into your eyes.
🌀🌀🌀
'In childhood I fell ill'
In childhood I fell ill
From fear and hunger. Peeling
The crust from my lips, I licked them;
Memorised the fresh and rather salty taste.
And always I am walking, walking, walking,
I sit on the front stairs, trying to get warm,
I walk myself into delirium, like following
The Pied Piper into the river, I sit down on the stairs
Trying to get warm; I feel so shivery.
And my mother stands there, beckoning, she seems
Quite close, but I can't reach her:
I'm almost there - she stands seven steps away
And beckons; I'm almost there - she stands
Seven steps away and beckons. I've grown
So hot, I unbutton my collar and lie down, -
Now trumpets start to blare, light strikes
My eyelids, horses gallop by, my mother
Flies above the road, and beckons -
And then she flew away...
And now beneath the apple trees
I dream of a white hospital,
A white sheet covering my throat,
A doctor in a white coat looks at me
And at the foot a sister all in white
Is fluttering her wings. They stayed.
My mother came, and beckoned -
She flew away…
🌀🌀🌀
'And this I dreamt, and this I dream'
And this I dreamt, and this I dream,
And some time this I will dream again,
And all will be repeated, all be re-embodied,
You will dream everything I have seen in dream.
To one side from ourselves, to one side from the world Wave follows wave to break on the shore,
On each wave is a star, a person, a bird,
Dreams, reality, death - on wave after wave.
No need for a date: I was, I am, and I will be,
Life is a wonder of wonders, and to wonder
I dedicate myself, on my knees, like an orphan,
Alone - among mirrors - fenced in by reflections:
Cities and seas, iridescent, intensified.
A mother in tears takes a child on her lap.
The last leaves' embers in total immolation
Rise into the sky; this whole forest
Seethes with irritation, just as we did
That last year we lived together.
The path you take's reflected in our tear filled eyes,
As bushes are reflected in the murky flood-lands.
Don't be difficult, don't touch, don't threaten,
Don't offend the forest silence by the Volga.
You can hear the old life breathing:
Clumps of mushrooms growing in damp grass -
Though gnawed to the very core by slugs,
They still inflame the skin.
All our past is like a threat -
Look, I'm coming, watch, I'll kill you!
The sky shivers and holds a maple, like a rose, -
May it burn still stronger - right into your eyes.
🌀🌀🌀
'In childhood I fell ill'
In childhood I fell ill
From fear and hunger. Peeling
The crust from my lips, I licked them;
Memorised the fresh and rather salty taste.
And always I am walking, walking, walking,
I sit on the front stairs, trying to get warm,
I walk myself into delirium, like following
The Pied Piper into the river, I sit down on the stairs
Trying to get warm; I feel so shivery.
And my mother stands there, beckoning, she seems
Quite close, but I can't reach her:
I'm almost there - she stands seven steps away
And beckons; I'm almost there - she stands
Seven steps away and beckons. I've grown
So hot, I unbutton my collar and lie down, -
Now trumpets start to blare, light strikes
My eyelids, horses gallop by, my mother
Flies above the road, and beckons -
And then she flew away...
And now beneath the apple trees
I dream of a white hospital,
A white sheet covering my throat,
A doctor in a white coat looks at me
And at the foot a sister all in white
Is fluttering her wings. They stayed.
My mother came, and beckoned -
She flew away…
🌀🌀🌀
'And this I dreamt, and this I dream'
And this I dreamt, and this I dream,
And some time this I will dream again,
And all will be repeated, all be re-embodied,
You will dream everything I have seen in dream.
To one side from ourselves, to one side from the world Wave follows wave to break on the shore,
On each wave is a star, a person, a bird,
Dreams, reality, death - on wave after wave.
No need for a date: I was, I am, and I will be,
Life is a wonder of wonders, and to wonder
I dedicate myself, on my knees, like an orphan,
Alone - among mirrors - fenced in by reflections:
Cities and seas, iridescent, intensified.
A mother in tears takes a child on her lap.
March 5, 2026
"Earth swallows herself
And, knocking her head against the sky,
Patches the gaps in her memory
With humankind and grass."
Tarkovsky SR, Sculptor-in-chief, spitting straight fire
And, knocking her head against the sky,
Patches the gaps in her memory
With humankind and grass."
Tarkovsky SR, Sculptor-in-chief, spitting straight fire
September 29, 2014
Unfortunately none of the poems reach the brilliance of "Life, Life" (which is not only Tarkovsky's best, but one of my favourite poems of all times). There are some nice moments, but most of the poems are simplistic and repetitive to the point of being dull (i got the same vibe from Akhmatova, whom Tarkovsky worshipped). It's mosty routine lyrics about war, gulags, mother russia and The Poet, rather than mindblowing spiritual stuff like "Life, life"
May 10, 2021
دو ستاره اونم فقط بخاطر اسم شاعرش. جوری که مترجمش تر زد به اشعار من تا دو ماه شعر نمیخوندم.
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews