В Петербурге мы сойдемся снова,
Словно солнце мы похоронили в нем . . .
О. Мандельштам
Четверть века прошло за границей,
И надеяться стало смешным.
Лучезарное небо над Ниццей
Навсегда стало небом родным.
Тишина благодатного юга,
Шорох волн, золотое вино...
Но поет петербургская вьюга
В занесенное снегом окно,
Что пророчество мертвого друга
Обязательно сбыться должно.
Имя тебе непонятное дали.
Ты – забытье.
Или – точнее – цианистый калий
Имя твое.
Георгий Адамович
Как вы когда-то разборчивы были,
О, дорогие мои!
Водки не пили – ее не любили –
Предпочитали Нюи...
Стал нашим хлебом цианистый калий,
Нашей водой – сулема.
Что ж – притерпелись и попривыкали,
Не посходили с ума.
Даже напротив – в бессмысленно-злобном
Мире – противимся злу:
Ласково кружимся в вальсе загробном,
На эмигрантском балу.
Two Poems
Georgy Ivanov
Listen to the poems in the original Russian read by Natasha Katson:
On 'A Quarter Century Has Passed . . . '
The hope once possessed by the émigrés was the hope of returning to Russia, or, for some, a less violent government. The dead friend in the last strophe is probably Mandelshtam. His prophecy is likely the famous epigraph that precedes the poem (and is followed with, "and then for the first time we will pronounce the blessed word with no meaning").
On 'How fussy . . . '
Many living poets and intellectuals or Russia who started out just before the revolution were forced to emigrate. Ivanov was one of them. Those who stayed were often suppressed or, famously, sent to do hard camps and/or murdered. Those who emigrated lived in mixed financial and psychological circumstances, but didn't suffer as universally and abjectly as their friends and colleagues at home.
As a young poet, Ivanov was involved with some of the futurist groups. He became closer with Gumilev and the acmeists before emigrating to Paris where he became a leader of the émigrés there.
The hope once possessed by the émigrés was the hope of returning to Russia, or, for some, a less violent government. The dead friend in the last strophe is probably Mandelshtam. His prophecy is likely the famous epigraph that precedes the poem (and is followed with, "and then for the first time we will pronounce the blessed word with no meaning").
On 'How fussy . . . '
Many living poets and intellectuals or Russia who started out just before the revolution were forced to emigrate. Ivanov was one of them. Those who stayed were often suppressed or, famously, sent to do hard camps and/or murdered. Those who emigrated lived in mixed financial and psychological circumstances, but didn't suffer as universally and abjectly as their friends and colleagues at home.
As a young poet, Ivanov was involved with some of the futurist groups. He became closer with Gumilev and the acmeists before emigrating to Paris where he became a leader of the émigrés there.
Georgy Ivanov (1894-1958) started as an acmeist poet, who emigrated to Paris after the revolution. He is similar to Akhmatova and Mandelshtam, in that his images are meant to literally represent his meaning, in contrast with symbolist poetry (Blok or Bely) in which meaning is separated from reality and interpreted through a symbol. He moved to a more nihilistic, European style toward the end of his life.
Harry Leeds is a translator of Russian poetry, a fiction writer, and a general lover of Russian writing. He is getting his MFA at the University of Florida. He has forthcoming translations in The Broome Street Review and The Birmingham Poetry Review, and is also working on a collection of Russian futurist poetry.
