By Alexander Vvedensky, Matvei Yankelevich, Eugene Ostashevsky
"Pussy revolt are Vvedensky's disciples and his heirs.
Katya, Masha, and that i are in penitentiary yet I don't ponder that we've been defeated.... based on the legitimate file, Alexander Vvedensky died on December 20, 1941. We don't recognize the reason, no matter if it used to be dysentery within the educate after his arrest or a bullet from a shield. It used to be someplace at the railway line among Voronezh and Kazan. His precept of 'bad rhythm' is our personal. He wrote: 'It occurs that rhythms will come into your head, an excellent one and a foul one and that i decide on the undesirable one. it is going to be the precise one.' ... it truly is believed that the OBERIU dissidents are useless, yet they continue to exist. they're persecuted yet they don't die."
-- Pussy insurrection [Nadezhda Tolokonnikova's remaining assertion at their trial in August 2012]
"I raise[d] my hand opposed to concepts," wrote Alexander Vvedensky, "I enacted a poetic critique of reason." This weirdly and beautifully philosophical poet was once born in 1904, grew up in the middle of battle and revolution, and reached his creative adulthood as Stalin was once twisting the that means of phrases in gruesome and deadly methods. Vvedensky--with Daniil Kharms the foremost determine within the short-lived underground avant-garde staff OBERIU (a neologism for "the union for genuine art")--responded with a poetry that explodes solid that means into shimmering streams of provocation and invention. A Vvedensky poem is sort of a loopy get together choked with theater, movie, magic methods, jugglery, and feasting. Curious characters seem and disappear, euphoria retains corporation with depression, outrageous assertions result in epic shouting suits, and maybe all of it breaks off with one lonely individual making a song a song.
A Vvedensky poem doesn't make a press release. it truly is an occasion. Vvedensky's poetry was once unpublishable in the course of his lifetime--he made a residing as a author for kids earlier than loss of life below arrest in 1942--and he continues to be the least recognized of the nice twentieth-century Russian poets. this can be his first publication to seem in English. The translations via Eugene Ostashevsky and Matvei Yankelevich, striking poets of their personal correct, are as astonishingly alert and alive because the originals.
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Additional info for Alexander Vvedensky: An Invitation For Me to Think (NYRB Poets)
J'ecraserai tes yeux sous les brindilles. Vieux guetteur infmi, tu n'auras plus que l'ombre pour pourrir. XLII Voici le temps des portes qui se ferment. Les mots sont a l'abri. Ils passeront l'hiver dans leurs coquilles. Ils dormiront. Au dehors tout le jardin peut disparaitre. Ils oublieront. Ils confondront leur mensonge et l'amour. Voici le temps des phrases qui durcissent. 31 CLAUDE ESTEBAN XL The face of my beloved has the taste of plane tree leaves. Like them, it will grow pale. What will I be, beyond myself?
Sans que la mort m'atteigne, prisonniere sur un papier. Lorsque le ciel s'obscurcissait, ta victoire toujours, lampe des signes ! La chair mains nue de se savoir ecrite et partagee. J'ai grandi lentement. Comme un de ces jardins sans murs que le vent, soudain revenu, devaste. 27 CLAUDE ESTEBAN XX XIV Birds lift off together. I remember. I live inside their voyage. I, in love with walls, rise up within my body. I am breathing. I am coming closer. I tremble at the touch of space. I trace an arrow, white, against white air.
LVI Terre des morts, mere toujours prochaine et vigilante, voici que tu remontes des racines avec l'hiver. Tu trembles, et le soleil se brise sur ta glace. Tu nous appelles. Et nous ne savons rieii de ce que tu reclames dans tes pleurs. Espere. Ne crains plus les grands sillons de fer qui te meurtrissent. Nos semailles n'ont pas germe. LVII Je me repeterai dans les syllabes demon nom. Je mourrai d'avoir trop aime la terre. Femmes qui me cachiez, j'ai dechire la grande poche oil pourrissaient vos sues.