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Le Démon (Annoté)
I
Un ange déchu, un démon plein de chagrin, volait au-dessus de notre terre pécheresse. Les souvenirs de jours meilleurs se pressaient en foule devant lui, de ces jours où, pur chérubin, il brillait au séjour de la lumière ; où les comètes errantes aimaient à échanger avec lui de bienveillants et gracieux sourires ; où, au milieu des ténèbres éternelles, avide de savoir, il suivait, à travers les espaces, les caravanes nomades des astres abandonnés ; où enfin, heureux premier-né de la création, il croyait et aimait ; il ne connaissait alors ni le mal ni le doute ; et une monotone et longue série, de siècles inféconds n’avaient point encore troublé sa raison… Et encore, encore il se souvenait !… Mais il n’était plus assez puissant pour se souvenir de tout.
Un ange déchu, un démon plein de chagrin, volait au-dessus de notre terre pécheresse. Les souvenirs de jours meilleurs se pressaient en foule devant lui, de ces jours où, pur chérubin, il brillait au séjour de la lumière ; où les comètes errantes aimaient à échanger avec lui de bienveillants et gracieux sourires ; où, au milieu des ténèbres éternelles, avide de savoir, il suivait, à travers les espaces, les caravanes nomades des astres abandonnés ; où enfin, heureux premier-né de la création, il croyait et aimait ; il ne connaissait alors ni le mal ni le doute ; et une monotone et longue série, de siècles inféconds n’avaient point encore troublé sa raison… Et encore, encore il se souvenait !… Mais il n’était plus assez puissant pour se souvenir de tout.
26 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1839
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4595 people want to read
About the author
Mikhail Lermontov
531 books958 followersMikhail Yuryevich Lermontov (Михаил Юрьевич Лермонтов), a Russian Romantic writer, poet and painter, sometimes called "the poet of the Caucasus", was the most important Russian poet after Alexander Pushkin's death. His influence on later Russian literature is still felt in modern times, not only through his poetry, but also by his prose.
Lermontov died in a duel like his great predecessor poet, Aleksander Pushkin.
Even more so tragically strange (if not to say fatalistic) that both poets described in their major works fatal duel outcomes, in which the main characters (Onegin and Pechorin) were coming out victorious.
Lermontov died in a duel like his great predecessor poet, Aleksander Pushkin.
Even more so tragically strange (if not to say fatalistic) that both poets described in their major works fatal duel outcomes, in which the main characters (Onegin and Pechorin) were coming out victorious.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 156 reviews
January 15, 2018
Where the land knows no time
where bonfires have no end,
and doomed shadows often tend
to mutter songs that poorly rhyme,
there lies the Demon, another prey of his kingdom.
Tired of his empire, he soon claimed
a small thrill,
a world of chance,
an emerald hill,
somebody's glance.
“I shall live now!”, he naively exclaimed.
The wide earth he started to wander;
on the Caucasian mountains he stopped,
a desperate sigh of hope there he dropped,
as he saw the bride that made him ponder
and filled his soul with chords and joy.
Princess Tamara was her divine name;
but heavens didn't forgive
his eyes made of fire,
no one could outlive
the nature of his desire,
as the weeping chants of fate abruptly came;
such solitude on the sunless face of pride.
There is no redemption for those who can't speak
nor freely touch; in this land or far above
where everything's whiter than a pale dove,
amidst the bluest ocean or a Caucasian peak;
an eternal misfortune, silent and bleak,
the suffering of being unable to love—
another Russian friend thus wrote.
We hurt the things we love most,
things so distant and of silence full;
fair signs which existence was null,
people never found yet always lost.
As the sound of the piano reaches the end,
Lermontov's poetry invades this mind,
a torrent of thoughts, loud and blind;
no hope of ever being able to find
meaning in these lines vainly penned.
Words that rest on nobody's palm,
destined to hide from the world's sight;
words without any music, beat or calm.
Jan 10, 16
* Also on my blog.
where bonfires have no end,
and doomed shadows often tend
to mutter songs that poorly rhyme,
there lies the Demon, another prey of his kingdom.
and one by one the ages passed,
as minute follows after minute,
each one monotonously dull.
Tired of his empire, he soon claimed
a small thrill,
a world of chance,an emerald hill,
somebody's glance.“I shall live now!”, he naively exclaimed.
And long he gazed, with fascination,
at the sweet view; as if in a dream
The wide earth he started to wander;
on the Caucasian mountains he stopped,
a desperate sigh of hope there he dropped,
as he saw the bride that made him ponder
and filled his soul with chords and joy.
words came no more . . . had he forgot?
Princess Tamara was her divine name;
but heavens didn't forgive
his eyes made of fire,no one could outlive
the nature of his desire,as the weeping chants of fate abruptly came;
such solitude on the sunless face of pride.
The crafty Demon with infernal
reveries had tempted him; in thoughts
beneath the gloom, the shades nocturnal,
it was his sweetheart's lips he sought.
There is no redemption for those who can't speak
nor freely touch; in this land or far above
where everything's whiter than a pale dove,
amidst the bluest ocean or a Caucasian peak;
an eternal misfortune, silent and bleak,
the suffering of being unable to love—
another Russian friend thus wrote.
A cry resounded, tortured, fierce,
troubling the stillnesses nocturnal.
In it were love, and pain's hard kernel,
reproaches, a last desperate prayer,
and then a hopeless, an eternal
farewell to life—all these were there.
We hurt the things we love most,
things so distant and of silence full;
fair signs which existence was null,
people never found yet always lost.
As the sound of the piano reaches the end,
Lermontov's poetry invades this mind,
a torrent of thoughts, loud and blind;
no hope of ever being able to find
meaning in these lines vainly penned.
Words that rest on nobody's palm,
destined to hide from the world's sight;
words without any music, beat or calm.
Jan 10, 16
* Also on my blog.
January 26, 2020
"He encontrado en tus luceros
mi edén, mi orco; yo te quiero
con la pasión que tú jamás
sentiste y nunca sentirás.
Desde la misma creación
del mundo llevo estampada
tu imagen en mi corazón,
tu nombre siempre me sonaba
en la mudez del Universo,
mientras sin meta divagaba
en sueños plácidos inmerso.
Cuando gozaba todavía
benevolencia del Señor,
lo único que me dolía
era vivir sin tu amor."
Éste es un poema corto de los más conocidos del autor ruso Lérmontov que lamentablemente murió muy joven a los 27 años sin saber si pudo haber hecho más de lo que nos dejó.
Cada vez leo poesía pero la verdad del tipo épica o narrativa en el cual se cuenta una historia concreta y tiene una longitud considerable. Ése es uno de los aspectos que no me llegó a gustar tanto por su extensión pues no es tan larga y la idea no se plasma pues de gran manera.
Nos cuenta este poema trágico - romántico - fantástico la historia de un Demonio que vagando por el Cáucaso se enamora de una princesa llamada Thamara.
Ella es muy querida por su familia y por la gente que lo rodea por lo que es "protegida" de alguna manera contra las asechanzas sobrenaturales del Demonio quien aquí se nos presenta como un ángel caído que siente tanto o más que un humano, que un adolescente enamorado.
El poema abunda en referencias bíblicas y también de romance y sobre todo fantasía. Hay frases bien logradas aunque no es así durante todo el poema. Se nos transmite las desdichas de un amor prohibido, de la castidad preservada y de los parajes agrestes que van tan en consonancia con esta fábula de alguna manera épica.
mi edén, mi orco; yo te quiero
con la pasión que tú jamás
sentiste y nunca sentirás.
Desde la misma creación
del mundo llevo estampada
tu imagen en mi corazón,
tu nombre siempre me sonaba
en la mudez del Universo,
mientras sin meta divagaba
en sueños plácidos inmerso.
Cuando gozaba todavía
benevolencia del Señor,
lo único que me dolía
era vivir sin tu amor."
Éste es un poema corto de los más conocidos del autor ruso Lérmontov que lamentablemente murió muy joven a los 27 años sin saber si pudo haber hecho más de lo que nos dejó.
Cada vez leo poesía pero la verdad del tipo épica o narrativa en el cual se cuenta una historia concreta y tiene una longitud considerable. Ése es uno de los aspectos que no me llegó a gustar tanto por su extensión pues no es tan larga y la idea no se plasma pues de gran manera.
Nos cuenta este poema trágico - romántico - fantástico la historia de un Demonio que vagando por el Cáucaso se enamora de una princesa llamada Thamara.
Ella es muy querida por su familia y por la gente que lo rodea por lo que es "protegida" de alguna manera contra las asechanzas sobrenaturales del Demonio quien aquí se nos presenta como un ángel caído que siente tanto o más que un humano, que un adolescente enamorado.
El poema abunda en referencias bíblicas y también de romance y sobre todo fantasía. Hay frases bien logradas aunque no es así durante todo el poema. Se nos transmite las desdichas de un amor prohibido, de la castidad preservada y de los parajes agrestes que van tan en consonancia con esta fábula de alguna manera épica.
June 28, 2024
X
Jam un' ai që t'u fanit
Në mes të natës në qeli,
Ai mendim që të trondit,
Ai trishtim që të venit,
Ai që pe në ëndërr ti,
Ai që s'do e që s'e duan,
Që me vështrimin shpresat shuan,
Kamxhiku, jam që botën rreh.
Jam mbret i dijes dhe lirisë,
Armik i qiellit, gjithësisë.
Po ja, për ty më gjunjë bie!
Me gjithë shpirt të dashurova
Prandaj ta çfaq me përgjërim
Të vetmen vojtje që provova,
Të parin lot të syrit tim.
O! Kij mëshirë – u përvëlova!
Veç fjala jote mund t'u japë
Qiejve dhe mua mirësi;
Në më rrethofsh me dashuri
Do dukem ëngjëll unë prapë
Në një parajs' e qiell të ri.
O, ndal, dëgjo, të përgjëroj,
Jam skllavi yt, të dashuroj!
Që atë çast që të vëreva
Me shpirt, pa masë e urreva
Pavdekësinë time, moj.
Zili ja pata kësaj bote
Jam un' ai që t'u fanit
Në mes të natës në qeli,
Ai mendim që të trondit,
Ai trishtim që të venit,
Ai që pe në ëndërr ti,
Ai që s'do e që s'e duan,
Që me vështrimin shpresat shuan,
Kamxhiku, jam që botën rreh.
Jam mbret i dijes dhe lirisë,
Armik i qiellit, gjithësisë.
Po ja, për ty më gjunjë bie!
Me gjithë shpirt të dashurova
Prandaj ta çfaq me përgjërim
Të vetmen vojtje që provova,
Të parin lot të syrit tim.
O! Kij mëshirë – u përvëlova!
Veç fjala jote mund t'u japë
Qiejve dhe mua mirësi;
Në më rrethofsh me dashuri
Do dukem ëngjëll unë prapë
Në një parajs' e qiell të ri.
O, ndal, dëgjo, të përgjëroj,
Jam skllavi yt, të dashuroj!
Që atë çast që të vëreva
Me shpirt, pa masë e urreva
Pavdekësinë time, moj.
Zili ja pata kësaj bote
March 2, 2007
Lermontov is known to all Russian speakers, but basically unknown to the rest of the world. He's like the FOIL of Pushkin. Where Pushkin was understanding, Lermontov was solitary, where Pushkin loved, Lermontov hated. The poetry is master work, I'm not sure however if it's ever any good in English, I've never read it in English, so... whatever. If you like Russia and consider yourself a Russophile, you should know who this is and have read him.
August 28, 2008
This poem is the reason I have degree in Russian. I translated each Romantic word with love and adoration. The Devil falls for a maiden (in a convent), which is really the Tzar ravishing his land/people. I couldn't get enough of Lermontov.
June 25, 2023
This is an amazing long poem that asks the provocative question "what if the devil were tired of being evil and fell in love with a beautiful young woman?"
January 23, 2021
Ένα αληθινό κόσμημα όχι μόνο της ρωσικής αλλά και της παγκόσμιας λογοτεχνίας, ένα εσωτερικό υπαρξιακό παραλήρημα κι ένας καταιγισμός εικόνων που τόσο όμορφα ήξερε να δημιουργεί ο Lermontov τόσο με την πένα όσο και με το πινέλο του (υπήρξε και αξιολογότατος ζωγράφος - βλ. παρακάτω).
Έκδηλη η επιρροή του αγαπημένου του Pushkin του οποίου υπήρξε συνεχιστής και διάδοχος και με τον οποίον μοιράζονται όχι μόνο την αγάπη τους για την ποίηση και τη γλώσσα αλλά - δυστυχώς - και το ίδιο πρόωρο τέλος σε μονομαχία. Κι εγώ, ακριβώς όπως και στον Ευγένιο Ονέγκιν θλίβομαι που δεν μπορώ (ακόμα) να το διαβάσω από το πρωτότυπο.
(Τιφλίδα - 1837)
Έκδηλη η επιρροή του αγαπημένου του Pushkin του οποίου υπήρξε συνεχιστής και διάδοχος και με τον οποίον μοιράζονται όχι μόνο την αγάπη τους για την ποίηση και τη γλώσσα αλλά - δυστυχώς - και το ίδιο πρόωρο τέλος σε μονομαχία. Κι εγώ, ακριβώς όπως και στον Ευγένιο Ονέγκιν θλίβομαι που δεν μπορώ (ακόμα) να το διαβάσω από το πρωτότυπο.
(Τιφλίδα - 1837)
July 6, 2018
Sve što je jednostavno to je i savršeno, pa tako i Ljermontov Demon. Ovo je jedna nihilističko-romantičarska poema ispisana u hrišćanskom duhu sa primjesom mističnog iz stare vjere. Napušten od svih, usamljen i moren psihičkim i moralnim pobudama tako Demon traži plemenitost obećavajući razne iluzije jednoj ženi. Taj duh vječnosti traži da bude ovaploćen kroz duh ovozemaljski. Demon negira sve kako bi to postigao, pa tako govori da je bog zauzet nebom i da ga ne zanima ovaj svijet. Kroz sve to ovdje dolazi do jednog bliskog odnosa između Tamare i Demona, odnosno tjelesnog i bestjelesnog. Neka sila uvijek nadvladava ljudsko biće. Pa tako Demon pruža bespovratnost.
February 23, 2025
I will never tire and will most likely never get enough of Lermontov's writing...
One of my favorite Russian classical authors (basically, I'd read his grocery shopping list).
This was an ethereal reading experience and felt like a (good kind of) fever dream *sigh*.
The demon's monologues when he is attempting to seduce Tamara are of such great quality that they can be utilized as a handbook or step-by-step manual for perfect manipulation techniques execution, literally (the amount of times that I've rolled my eyes while reading because I've heard most of these things before from "love interests" kind of made me laugh ngl, in the best possible way ofc because of how unfortunately relatable the experience is XDXD)
One of my favorite Russian classical authors (basically, I'd read his grocery shopping list).
This was an ethereal reading experience and felt like a (good kind of) fever dream *sigh*.
The demon's monologues when he is attempting to seduce Tamara are of such great quality that they can be utilized as a handbook or step-by-step manual for perfect manipulation techniques execution, literally (the amount of times that I've rolled my eyes while reading because I've heard most of these things before from "love interests" kind of made me laugh ngl, in the best possible way ofc because of how unfortunately relatable the experience is XDXD)
April 2, 2023
Romantizam zauvek.
Fun fact 1: Ljermontov je ovu poemu pisao 10 godina. Bio bi krajnje neuspešan morskorezidencijski pisac.
Fun fact 2: Ovaj rasplet koji nam je danas dostupan Lj. je napisao pred samo čitanje na dvoru, kako bi bio siguran da će pobožni recenzenti odobriti štampanje. U rukopisu, Demon i Tamara ostaju zajedno u večnosti. Kao ni ostatak svetske kritike, ne znam koji kraj bih više volela kao stvaran.
Fun fact 1: Ljermontov je ovu poemu pisao 10 godina. Bio bi krajnje neuspešan morskorezidencijski pisac.
Fun fact 2: Ovaj rasplet koji nam je danas dostupan Lj. je napisao pred samo čitanje na dvoru, kako bi bio siguran da će pobožni recenzenti odobriti štampanje. U rukopisu, Demon i Tamara ostaju zajedno u večnosti. Kao ni ostatak svetske kritike, ne znam koji kraj bih više volela kao stvaran.
February 15, 2017
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
May 22, 2013
[il demone]
io sono colui la cui voce ascoltavi,
tu, nel silenzio della mezzanotte,
il cui pensiero all'anima parlava,
la cui tristezza tu riconoscesti,
la cui immagine vedevi in sogno.
il mio sguardo uccide ogni speranza;
io sono colui che nessuno può amare.
dei miei terreni schiavi sono la frusta,
sono il signore di scienza e libertà;
nemico del cielo, son della natura
il male. e sono qui, ai piedi tuoi!
per la tua tenerezza t'ho portato
la placida preghiera dell'amore,
il mio primo dolore sulla terra,
e le lacrime prime che ho versato.
ascoltami, ti prego, per pietà.
soltanto tu con la tua voce puoi
restituire me al bene e al cielo.
protetto dal mantello del tuo amore
a me sarà concesso di salire
lassù, angelo nuovo in nuova luce;
o, ti prego: ascoltami soltanto:
io sono il tuo schiavo. e ti amo!"
io sono colui la cui voce ascoltavi,
tu, nel silenzio della mezzanotte,
il cui pensiero all'anima parlava,
la cui tristezza tu riconoscesti,
la cui immagine vedevi in sogno.
il mio sguardo uccide ogni speranza;
io sono colui che nessuno può amare.
dei miei terreni schiavi sono la frusta,
sono il signore di scienza e libertà;
nemico del cielo, son della natura
il male. e sono qui, ai piedi tuoi!
per la tua tenerezza t'ho portato
la placida preghiera dell'amore,
il mio primo dolore sulla terra,
e le lacrime prime che ho versato.
ascoltami, ti prego, per pietà.
soltanto tu con la tua voce puoi
restituire me al bene e al cielo.
protetto dal mantello del tuo amore
a me sarà concesso di salire
lassù, angelo nuovo in nuova luce;
o, ti prego: ascoltami soltanto:
io sono il tuo schiavo. e ti amo!"
November 30, 2023
TAMARA
Why should I share your griefs, your inner
torments? why listen to your moan?
You've sinned...
DEMON
Towards you, I'm no sinner.
TAMARA
Someone will hear us!...
DEMON
We're alone.
TAMARA
And God?
DEMON
Won't glance at us: eternal
for heaven, but not for earth, his care.
TAMARA
And punishment, and pains infernal?
DEMON
What of them, if we both are there?
THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL.
December 21, 2014
Neskutečně emotivní a nádherné. :-)
Jsem ten, jenž pouhým zrakem zničí
květ rodící se naděje,
jejž nemiluje srdce ničí
a každý ho jen prokleje.
***
Mám ráj i peklo v očích tvých.
Já nadpozemsky miluji tě
láskou, již nemůžeš ty znát.
Jsou touhy vášnivé v mých citech
i síla, kterou jsem kdy vlád.
Jsem ten, jenž pouhým zrakem zničí
květ rodící se naděje,
jejž nemiluje srdce ničí
a každý ho jen prokleje.
***
Mám ráj i peklo v očích tvých.
Já nadpozemsky miluji tě
láskou, již nemůžeš ty znát.
Jsou touhy vášnivé v mých citech
i síla, kterou jsem kdy vlád.
January 15, 2023
I
Печальный Демон, дух изгнанья,
Летал над грешною землей,
И лучших дней воспоминанья
Пред ним теснилися толпой;
Тex дней, когда в жилище света
Блистал он, чистый херувим,
Когда бегущая комета
Улыбкой ласковой привета
Любила поменяться с ним,
Когда сквозь вечные туманы,
Познанья жадный, он следил
Кочующие караваны
В пространстве брошенных светил;
Когда он верил и любил,
Счастливый первенец творенья!
Не знал ни злобы, ни сомненья.
И не грозил уму его
Веков бесплодных ряд унылый…
И много, много… и всего
Припомнить не имел он силы!
II
Давно отверженный блуждал
В пустыне мира без приюта:
Вослед за веком век бежал,
Как за минутою минута,
Однообразной чередой.
Ничтожной властвуя землей,
Он сеял зло без наслажденья.
Нигде искусству своему
Он не встречал сопротивленья -
И зло наскучило ему.
Печальный Демон, дух изгнанья,
Летал над грешною землей,
И лучших дней воспоминанья
Пред ним теснилися толпой;
Тex дней, когда в жилище света
Блистал он, чистый херувим,
Когда бегущая комета
Улыбкой ласковой привета
Любила поменяться с ним,
Когда сквозь вечные туманы,
Познанья жадный, он следил
Кочующие караваны
В пространстве брошенных светил;
Когда он верил и любил,
Счастливый первенец творенья!
Не знал ни злобы, ни сомненья.
И не грозил уму его
Веков бесплодных ряд унылый…
И много, много… и всего
Припомнить не имел он силы!
II
Давно отверженный блуждал
В пустыне мира без приюта:
Вослед за веком век бежал,
Как за минутою минута,
Однообразной чередой.
Ничтожной властвуя землей,
Он сеял зло без наслажденья.
Нигде искусству своему
Он не встречал сопротивленья -
И зло наскучило ему.
June 2, 2018
A damned demon wanders earth, and joy of love allowed him to shed his first tear. But will he bring joy to her he loves?
Мгновенно в грудь ее проник.
Мучительный ужасный крик
Ночное возмутил молчанье.
В нем было все: любовь, страданье,
Упрек с последнею мольбой
И безнадежное прощанье —
Прощанье с жизнью молодой,
В то время сторож полуночный,
Один вокруг стены крутой
Свершая тихо путь урочный,
Бродил с чугунною доской,
И возле кельи девы юной
Он шаг свой мерный укротил
И руку над доской чугунной,
Смутясь душой, остановил
Мгновенно в грудь ее проник.
Мучительный ужасный крик
Ночное возмутил молчанье.
В нем было все: любовь, страданье,
Упрек с последнею мольбой
И безнадежное прощанье —
Прощанье с жизнью молодой,
В то время сторож полуночный,
Один вокруг стены крутой
Свершая тихо путь урочный,
Бродил с чугунною доской,
И возле кельи девы юной
Он шаг свой мерный укротил
И руку над доской чугунной,
Смутясь душой, остановил
January 23, 2024
ho il cuore devastato
September 18, 2025
Every time I read Lermontov, I wish I could pilgrimage around the grave of the man who first mentioned him to me. I only know he committed suicide years ago. He was a living actualization of Lermontov's superfluous man.
December 27, 2020
"და ის ხედავდა წუთის უმალეს
დემონის გულიც უიდუმალეს
ღელვას მიენდო გაძლიერებით
და მისი მუნჯი სულის წყვდიადი
ისევ აივსო სათნო ბგერებით,
და კვლავ შეიცნო მან სიდიადე
ტრფობის,სიკეთის,მშვენიერების!" 💜
დემონის გულიც უიდუმალეს
ღელვას მიენდო გაძლიერებით
და მისი მუნჯი სულის წყვდიადი
ისევ აივსო სათნო ბგერებით,
და კვლავ შეიცნო მან სიდიადე
ტრფობის,სიკეთის,მშვენიერების!" 💜
June 22, 2012
Dupa ce citesti Demonul (1842), Luceafarul (1883) pare aproape plagiat. 2 observatii: a) Regret ca nu stapanesc limba rusa: nu ma pot pronunta asupra subtilitatilor poemului. (Eminescu fiind cam singurul poet romantic roman desavarsit, expresia lui Lermontov va fi automat comparata cu el, desi poetul rus este un antecesor. Mai mult, Lermontov m-a trimis mai degraba la Byron.) b) Cat de proaspat imi pare romantismul, cat de limpede (ca un film noir sau ca o tragedie clasica), dupa ani de lecturat poezie post-moderna, de cele mai multe ori confuza, agresiva si redundanta (asemenea turnului Babel).
May 27, 2016
Demon:
"çox rəhbər olmadım mən insanlara
günah öyrətmədim çox da onlara."
İblis:
"mənsiz də əmin ol sizə rəhbərlik edən var,
od püskürən, atəş savuran kinli krallar."
"çox rəhbər olmadım mən insanlara
günah öyrətmədim çox da onlara."
İblis:
"mənsiz də əmin ol sizə rəhbərlik edən var,
od püskürən, atəş savuran kinli krallar."
June 25, 2024
Și Demonul, cu glas sălbatic,
își blestemă nebunul vis,
Din nou, mâhnit și singuratic,
Rămase-n necuprins închis.
Din nou, înfrânt, porni-n neștire,
Neputincioș scrâșnind din dinți,
Lipsit de țel și de iubire
Și părăsit de năzuinți...
își blestemă nebunul vis,
Din nou, mâhnit și singuratic,
Rămase-n necuprins închis.
Din nou, înfrânt, porni-n neștire,
Neputincioș scrâșnind din dinți,
Lipsit de țel și de iubire
Și părăsit de năzuinți...
April 26, 2023
Todo empezó porque había un tema recurrente que me daba al ojo en cuadros de pintores de Europa del Este, en el que dos figuras, una mujer y un demonio parecen estar abrazandose. El titulo siempre es Tamara and Demon, investigando acerca del cuadro encontré que era la interpretación de un poema mitico y muy conocido por los romanticos del este, The Demon de Mikhail Iulrevich Lermontov, empece a buscar sobre Lermontov y su poema, no encontraba ninguna copia para leerlo en castellano y en ingles tampoco era facil, jamas he leído ningún poema pero lo que ahora era una obsesión me hacia seguir buscando una copia. No he conseguido la copia en castellano por ningún lado así que me lo he tenido que leer en inglés antiguo, ha sido pesado tener que estar traduciendo para entender todo bien, pero me ha encantado terminar este viaje que empezó con un cuadro. Si alguien encuentra en poema completo en castellano que me avise, que solo hay fragmentos. Es un poema y una historia francamente bonita 😭
Los cuadros: Tamara and Demon - Mihály von Zichy
Tamara and the Demon - Konstantin Makovsky
Tamara and the Demon - Mikhail Vrubel
Los cuadros: Tamara and Demon - Mihály von Zichy
Tamara and the Demon - Konstantin Makovsky
Tamara and the Demon - Mikhail Vrubel
April 24, 2025
(20 August, 2013)
It is hard to understand why Lermontov is not a household name in 'The West', maybe it's because he died at age 26 and left so few works, who knows? Anyhoo, 'The Demon' is another brilliant effort by the author of 'A Hero of Our Time'.
The Devil (slightly reminiscent of Milton's Lucifer) is more than a one-dimensional villain here. He feels, he longs, hell(!) he hurts. A human, a woman named Tamara, finds herself the object of the demon's love. Working his nefarious magic, he manipulates circumstances to suit his needs. His 'je ne sais quoi' has the desired effect but there might be certain obstacles to overcome...
It is hard to understand why Lermontov is not a household name in 'The West', maybe it's because he died at age 26 and left so few works, who knows? Anyhoo, 'The Demon' is another brilliant effort by the author of 'A Hero of Our Time'.
The Devil (slightly reminiscent of Milton's Lucifer) is more than a one-dimensional villain here. He feels, he longs, hell(!) he hurts. A human, a woman named Tamara, finds herself the object of the demon's love. Working his nefarious magic, he manipulates circumstances to suit his needs. His 'je ne sais quoi' has the desired effect but there might be certain obstacles to overcome...
March 1, 2018
*Read for class.
Unfortunately, I expected to like it more than I actually did. But it was still pretty good, I don't regret reading this, of course. And the whole concept of Angel and Demon falling in love with Tamara, but how different their love it! That was wonderfully shown and done, I liked moment that a lot. But it didn't make me feel things like I wanted to.
Unfortunately, I expected to like it more than I actually did. But it was still pretty good, I don't regret reading this, of course. And the whole concept of Angel and Demon falling in love with Tamara, but how different their love it! That was wonderfully shown and done, I liked moment that a lot. But it didn't make me feel things like I wanted to.
June 4, 2014
Sublime and mesmerizing, Lermontov's "Demon" blends (and transcends) the earthly and heavenly, inner and outer, passion and meditative indifference. A breathtaking rondo of senses driven by the best poetry I've ever read in Russian.
August 13, 2016
Excellent translation into English verse, by Robert Burness, of the poem about a demon who falls in love with a human girl, has her betrothed killed, and follows her into a convent.
September 24, 2022
«Мой рай, мой ад в твоих очах.»
March 9, 2023
Mi sto ancora scervellando per dare un significato al «sorriso strano e freddo sulle sue labbra»....
May 3, 2024
a dir poco meraviglioso
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