Alexander Vvedensky

by Alexander Vvedensky

  I’ll calmly ask

  he’ll say: my name was Ivan

  I died under a divan

  IVAN IVANOVICH

  say say what an unfortunate

  what a monotonous demise

  how I moan for you O man

  you’re just like bad weather juice

  I hear your voice it is so vocal

  I a reflective cherub weep

  A MOTHER, running in:

  a god is what you are, Ivan Ivanovich

  smash the cymbal blow the horn

  in the glass scared and dense

  you have no substance

  you lack depth

  like children like people like celestial hierarchies

  PROKOFIEV, MUSICIAN

  despite this nearing the window

  I see the night the surly road

  I see upon these narrow

  roads sundry Russian birds

  the raven the finch

  the philomel torn off a birch

  and here astounding like an owl

  Tomilin sits on a branch

  he thinks he is a little owl

  he puts together words

  IVAN IVANOVICH

  yes that I can do

  although I may fall mute

  unable to express my happiness

  with the People’s Commissariat of Commerce

  look everyone

  flowers stand at a distance

  the dew-moist trees

  bend figurative like maidens named Tanya

  hear everyone

  notes arise from underground

  the beavers run the raccoons hurry

  they start discourses in a minor key

  and sitting on the sand blaspheme

  in their animal lexeme

  you God are ill

  you sphere are thin

  fat fleas cause

  itch of the skin

  O lord of lords we are offended

  resentment hath our necks distended

  A GRANDMOTHER, entering:

  this convention of atheists

  reminds me of seas

  of curses by subtle satanists

  their thoughts like anchors

  get stuck in closed canals

  in human bacchanals

  let us imagine absence of the earth

  let us imagine absence of objects

  inanimate zeros invade

  this human apartment

  mineral, the planet

  will pale like a cheek

  the fount roll up

  and wail and thunder

  the sandpiper speak

  with a voice

  it won’t crumble, it’s not

  sand, world horseman or piece

  IVAN IVANOVICH

  you got it real weird here

  a traditional beverage is in flames

  we’ll overthrow all doubts

  volume rules the world

  the law with no flaw

  rose above you like a balcony

  the philosopher Kant said:

  although I’m not a musician

  still I understand

  the moving play of sound

  often I extract my thoughts

  take a walk around the feast

  I eat soup with pepper

  I eat ham and fish

  thoughts thoughts I don’t prevent

  you from grazing meanwhile

  meanwhile thoughts are grazing

  one on one with mathematics

  we have soured under physics

  a great volume crushes us

  while thoughts wordless grow

  around above below

  PROKOFIEV, MUSICIAN

  are they really that omnipotent?

  IVAN IVANOVICH

  my opinion is they are

  let us say this very morning

  I come out of the dyer’s

  where I’d taken my tuxedo

  so that it would look like night

  my feet barely touch the ground

  I’m way ahead of myself

  and they start with their high jinks

  thoughts, I said, you’re a lynx!

  thoughts you’re as swift as light

  but I heard their reply:

  we have a headache

  God says, sit still you maniacs

  the world has grown sparser

  five steps away there’s the border

  PROKOFIEV, MUSICIAN

  so how do we think?

  how do we live?

  what do we eat?

  what do we drink?

  IVAN IVANOVICH

  eat polkas

  drink flowers

  think only

  as much as you

  November 1929

  [E.O.]

  The Joyful Man Franz

  the joyful man Franz

  maintained protuberance

  from start to finish

  he never came down the porch

  measured stars named flowers

  believed I am you

  affixing number to time

  humming in rhyme

  he died and was deceased

  like the shotgun and the cyst

  he felt fear on seeing a skirt

  as he fantasized asleep

  and would sail at the helm

  to a melancholy elm

  where squads of beetles

  performed about-faces

  showed their whiskers to gods

  pronounced themselves to be clocks

  gods howled out of tune

  and tumbled down from the moon

  there in luxurious grass

  an ant was being stamped

  and the glowworm, unkind king

  lit up a large lamp

  silently the lightnings flashed

  languid animals snorted

  unhurriedly growled

  the waves that lay on the sand

  where? where did all this happen

  where did this location roam

  I forgot, the sun will say

  sinking into the unknown

  all we see is the exit

  from the schoolbag of Franz

  of the contemporary of man

  the psychologist of the divine

  this wizard announces

  the party begins

  idle stars crowd in

  boring people smoke

  lonely thoughts run around

  everything is sad and pointless

  God what kind of party is this

  it’s the christmas of death or something

  hens step around gulfs

  the hall hops with cupids

  and the iron steam engine

  contemplates cow patties

  Franz awoke from his nightmare

  why are all these things here?

  the valet stood here like a palm

  before the meadows of eternity

  short as a reed

  the collar sleeps upon a chair

  a branch of kerosene

  lights up the twilight

  answer me wizard

  is this a dream? I’m a fool

  but where is that wizard

  where is the psychologist of the divine

  he counts songs in his sleep

  growing bald as a tree

  he can’t come here

  where the real world stands

  he calmly multiplies the shades

  does not glisten in the sky

  Turks give me my carriage

  the joyful Franz called

  give me the rocket of Oberth

  give me horsepower

  I will ride around the universe

  in this fascinating cab

  a war prisoner of the earth

  I will race against a star

  from the ceiling see my bed

  I’m a bluebird I’m...

  meanwhile out of the acute night

  out of the abyss of the bad dream

  appears a crownr />
  and the ramified scythe

  you’re an irate serpent

  my childless death

  hello Franz will sadly say

  each hair of yours holds

  more thoughts than a pot

  more sleep than a powder

  take out your saber

  and slice open my shirt

  then slice open my skin

  affix me to the bed

  all the same shall science triumph

  I’ll announce as I gurgle

  and create a grandson

  my substitute in the form of a lamp

  stand and glow my boy

  write essays for school

  death said you’re a flower

  and fled to the east

  Franz remained alone

  to contemplate protuberance

  measure stars name flowers

  put together I and you

  lying in absolute silence

  in the empty heights

  1929–1930

  [E.O.]

  Snow Lies

  snow lies

  earth flies

  lights flip

  to pigments night has come

  on a rug of stars it lies

  is it night or a demon?

  like an inane lever

  sleeps the insane river

  it is not aware

  of the moon everywhere

  animals gnash their canines

  in black gold cages

  animals bang their heads

  animals are the ospreys of saints

  the world flies around the universe

  nearby the hot white stars

  flits imperishable bird

  seeks a home a nest

  there’s no nest a hole

  the universe is alone

  maybe rarely will pass

  time as poor as a night

  or a daughter in a bed

  will grow sleepy and then dead

  then a crowd of relations

  enter in and cry alas

  in steel houses

  howl loudly

  she’s gone and buried

  hopped to paradise big-bellied

  God God have pity

  good God on the precipice

  but God said Go play

  and she entered paradise

  there spun any which way

  numbers houses and seas

  in the inessential they

  what exists in vain perceived

  there God languished behind bars

  with no eyes no legs no arms

  so that maiden in tears

  sees all this in the heavens

  sees sundry eagles

  appear out of night

  and fly sullen

  and flash silent

  this is so depressing

  the dead maiden will say

  serenely amazed

  God will inquire

  what’s depressing? what’s

  depressing, God, life

  what are you talking about

  what O noon do you know

  you press pleasure and Paris

  to your impetuous breast

  you dress like music

  you undress like a statue

  the forest then roared

  in lonely despair

  it saw through earth’s tares

  a meandering ribbon

  a strip curvilinear

  curvy Lena you are

  Mercury was in the air

  spinning like a top

  and the bear in the bush

  sunned his coat

  people also walked around

  bearing fish on a platter

  bearing on their hands

  ten fingers on a ladder

  while all this went on

  that maiden rested

  rose from the dead and forgot

  yawned and said

  you guys, I had a dream

  what can it mean

  dreams are worse than macaroni

  they make crows double over

  I was not at all dying

  I was gaping and lying

  undulating and crying

  I was so terrifying

  a fit of lethargy

  was had by me among the effigies

  let’s enjoy ourselves really

  let’s gallop to the cinema

  she sped off like a she-ass

  to satisfy her innermost

  lights glint in the heaven

  is it night or a demon

  January 1930

  [E.O.]

  The Meaning of the Sea

  to make everything clear

  live backwards

  take walks in the woods

  tearing off hair

  when you recognize fire

  in a lamp a stove

  say wherefore you yearn

  fire ruler of the candle

  what do you mean or not

  where’s the cabinet the pot

  demons spiral like flies

  over a piece of cake

  these spirits displayed

  legs arms and horns

  juicy beasts war

  lamps contort in sleep

  babes in silence blow the trumpet

  women cry on a pine tree

  the universal God stands

  in the cemetery of the skies

  the ideal horse walks

  finally the forest comes

  we look on in fear

  we think it’s fog

  the forest growls and waves its arms

  it feels discomfort boredom

  it weakly whispers I’m a phantom

  maybe later I’ll be

  fields stand near a hillock

  holding fear on a platter

  people montenegrins beasts

  joyfully feast

  impetuous the music plays

  finns have fun

  shepherds shepherdesses bark

  skiffs spin atop tables

  here and there in the skiffs

  see the minutes’ haloes

  we are in the presence of fun

  I said this right away

  either the birth of a canyon

  or the nuptials of cliffs

  we will witness this feast

  from this bench this trumpet

  as the tambourines roll

  like the earth, making clatter

  skies will come and a battle

  or we will come to be ourselves

  goblets moved along mustaches

  on clock faces flowers rose

  and our thoughts were soaring

  among curled plants

  our thoughts our boats

  our gods our aunts

  our souls our mass

  our goblets in them death

  but we said, and yet

  this rain is meaningless

  we ask, pass the sign

  the sign plays on water

  the wise hills throw

  into the stream all those who feasted

  glasses flourish in the water

  water homeland of the night

  after thinking we like corpses

  showed to heaven our cruppers

  sea time sleep are one

  we will mutter sinking down

  we packed our instruments

  souls powders feet

  stationed our monuments

  lighted our pots

  on the floor of the deep

  we the host of drowned men

  in debate with the number fifteen

  will shadowbox and burn up

  and yet years passed

  fog passed and nonsense

  some of us sank to the floor

  like the board of a ship

  another languishes

  gnashes his wisdom teeth

  another on dull seaweed

  hung the laundry of his muscle

  and blinks like the moon

  when the wave sways

  ano
ther said my foot

  is the same as the floor

  in sum all are discontented

  left the water in a huff

  the waves hummed in back

  starting to work

  ships hopped around

  horses galloped in the fields

  shots were evident and tears

  sleep and death in the clouds

  all the drowned men came out

  scratched themselves before the sunset

  and rode off on a carriage beam

  some were rich some not

  I said I see right away

  the end will come anyway

  a big vase is brought this way

  with a flower and a cymbal

  here’s a vase that’s clever

  here’s a candle snow

  salt and mousetrap

  for fun and pleasure

  hello universal God

  here I stand a bit sullied

  glory to heaven washed away

  my oar memory and will

  1930

  [E.O.]

  The Demise of the Sea

  SEA DEMON

  and the sea too means nothing

  and the sea too is a round O

  and in vain does man hop

  into the deep from guns and blades

  and in the sea as well the fishies go

  dogs run around violins play

  and seaweed sleeps like middle-aged women

  and boats skip up and down like fleas

  and in the sea there is as little sense

  it obeys the same numbers

  it is deserted and dark

  maybe O sea you are a window?

  maybe O sea you are a widow?

  HUNTER

  I too stood waist-deep in the woods

  I was a student of game wisdom

  sometimes bathing in strong vodka

  I experienced death and boredom

  beasts spun before me

  various raw

  but I shut the doors of the wood

  to find other worlds

  here I stand upon these cliffs

  and hear the growling of dead waves

  and the words of farewell are displayed

  on my exhausted hands and arms

  farewell mountains and woods

  farewell badger farewell fox

  ME

  a dignitary saunters in

  wild rose squeals in his hand

  he looks at everything in high-society manner

  he hiccups rarely in german

  majestic and disdainful

  he halts his walking on the strand

  the pine tree rustles the plum tree babbles

  the insane wave glistens

  the boat dreams and the deep

  suddenly says to him: O man

  and you with state affairs laden

  knowing the forked paths of public service

  knowing the flummery of epaulets

  could you have grown disgusted with ballet

  could life be that ensanguined idol

  is that you here suicidal

  DIGNITARY

  here I am before you

  my dear deep

  I see that people still desire

  to purchase real estate on your bottom