"When we left home, although it was evening, it was still bright. Marina told me that aleksandr blok was a great poet like Pushkin. Listening to her every word, an exciting premonition of good things seized my heart. Marina sat in the small and shabby carriage of the painter Miliotti, leafing through books. The painter himself is not here.

"I ran around in the garden. The notice board reads:' aleksandr blok Recitation' and' Peter Cogan's Report will be held in the Museum of Comprehensive Technology'.

"On the whole, everything is like a festival-just like on the mountain of Vorobev: pancakes are sold under the trees in the tree-lined path, and the phonograph is singing.

"The painters Milioti and Vysheslavtsev, as well as the poet Mrs. Pavlic Antokolski, have finally arrived. Let's buy tickets. We walked into the front hall decorated with shells, where a silver puppet with a spear said in a voice,' Please go forward for the Brock party.' We entered a hall decorated with pink velvet. It was packed, but he hasn't come yet. Antokolski brought us some chairs. Hardly had we sat down when we heard the audience whispering,' Brock!' Brock!' Where is he?' Brock!' Sit down at the small table!' Lilacs ...' Everyone was extremely excited.

"that expressionless face is very long. A pair of black eyes reveal a depressed look, and the lips are dark and dry, and the face is brown. The whole person looks exhausted, and his eyes, lips and whole face are simply dead expressions.

"He is reciting a long poem" Revenge ".The long poem describes Byron, which is not the real Byron. He charmed the little daughter of an ancient aristocratic family. It was as if his daughter had married him, so he took her away. On a gloomy day, she came back alone. She is skinny and exhausted, holding a nursing baby in her hand. Later, my son grew up, but instead of going to war, he was happy at the dance. One day when he was dancing, he heard that his father was dying on Rose Street in Warsaw. But when he got there, he found his father dead and lying in bed. The description of father's appearance in the coffin is completely consistent with Brock's appearance. Quiet eyes closed. The body is straight and serene. Wearing an engagement ring on her finger. The son took off the ring from his father's peaceful finger and drew a cross for his father's final sleep.

"When my son stood by the grave, there was still a woman in a black dress and a black veil in mourning.

"In another chapter, Alexander Aleksandrovic recited the plot describing the war and the army; Many people died in the battle, but they were full of heroism and marched forward bravely, and the queen was watching them.

"His voice was calm and monotonous.

"It seems to me that he also said that his son had forgotten his father.

"Then Brock stopped and it was over. Let's all applaud. He bowed shyly. The audience cheered:' Please recite a few more short poems!' "Twelve"! Please recite Twelve!'

' I ... I can't recite Twelve!'

"Strange Girl! Strange girl!'

' misty morning,' Brock recited,' like a little boy, you suddenly ran and bowed. Goodbye! And the badge clinks against the bracelet. What a wonderful memory!' These lines have been in my memory since I was very young, and will remain forever. )

"I can't remember many cadences, but I can describe them in prose:' Your face is embedded in a golden photo frame and placed on the table in front of me. Memories of you are melancholy. You left in a dark blue cloak in the middle of the night. I'll take your face off the table embedded in a golden photo frame.'

"When Brock recites' Little Bell' and' Ring', it ends with' ы'. He recited mechanically, reserved and lacking in * * *. Very serious and gloomy. You put your silver ring to my lips coldly.'

"Brock sometimes forgets his words, so he turns to look at the ladies and gentlemen sitting behind him, and they smile and give him a hint.

"My Marina is sitting in an inconspicuous corner. Her face is dignified and her lips are tight, just like when she is angry. Sometimes her hand touches the little flowers I hold, and her beautiful aquiline nose smells these odorless flowers and leaves. To be exact, there was no joy on her face, but she was very excited.

"It's getting dark, probably because it's dark, and Brock recited very slowly. So a gentleman behind us lit the lamp. All the candles on the chandelier frame and the headlights on both sides of the room are lit, and the headlights are wrapped in thick glass, which is very dark.

"After a few minutes, it was all over. Marina asked Milioti to take me to see Brock. When I walked into his room, I began to put on a casual look. Then walk up to Brock. I pulled his sleeve carefully and gently. He turned around. I handed him the letter. He smiled and whispered,' Thank you!' I bowed deeply. He greeted him casually with a smile. I left.

"May 15th, 192"

Brock was the only poet in Marina Zvetayeva's life who was respected by her not as a "heartstring craft" but as a poetic god and worshipped by her as a god. All the other poets she loves are regarded by her as like-minded people. To be exact-she regards herself as their peers and like-minded people, and about everyone-from Trediakovski to Mayakovski-she thinks she has the right to say something like what she said about Pushkin: "I know the sharpness of the quill pen, as if it had been honed! The finger has not been dried yet, leaving his ink! "

and every one of them-even the most intangible Rilke! -she thinks and feels like a brother. She knows that poetry is not produced by genius alone, but also by all the misfortunes, * * *, weakness and joy of the flesh and blood of a living person, by his painful experience, his will and strength, sweat and labor, hunger and desire. His empathy and compassion for their personal life, "environmental restrictions" or environmental restrictions (which life should break through) have not weakened compared with his creation of poets.

Zvetayeva thinks that only Brock's creation has reached the height of unattainable clouds-not detached from life, but purified by life (just like being purified by fire! ), so she never dared to think that she would reach such a creative height-only to worship. All the poems she dedicated to Brock between 1916 and 192 and 1921, as well as the prose she recited about him in Paris in the early 193s (this essay has never been published anywhere, and the manuscript has not been preserved), are such lofty prostrations and such a series of "Hallelujah".

Just as readers of my generation said "Pasternak and Zvetayeva", her generation said "Brock and Akhmatova". But the conjunction between these two names is purely a gift to Zvetayeva. She didn't draw an equal sign between them; Her praise of Akhmatova's poems is at best a manifestation of sisterly feelings, that's all. They are indeed two sisters in poetry, but they are by no means twins; Akhmatova's perfect coordination and spiritual harmony once fascinated Zvetayeva in the early days, but later it became a factor limiting Akhmatova's creation and the development of her poetry. "She is perfect, but unfortunately this is her limit." When talking about Akhmatova, Zvetayeva said this.

I still remember the scene that Antokolski brought and gave Marina a a copy of Twelve by Brock. It was a large format, black and white-dark night, white snow-a book with sharp illustrations by Annenkov; As soon as he left our former restaurant, he began to read directly, and his small black and fanatical eyes shone brightly; He beat his hands in the air; He came to us and blindly bypassed the obstacles until he leaned against the table where Marina was sitting. She stood up to meet him. He read until the end, and Marina silently took the book from him without raising her eyes. At the moment of shock, she always lowered her eyelids, gritted her teeth, and kept her inner boiling feelings from showing, seemingly cold.

The extraordinary phenomenon of Twelve not only shocked her, but also made her feel ashamed for herself and some of her contemporary poets in some major aspects. On this point, she said a lot in the essay describing Brock, and it was very sharp. In particular, she said: Caotai Opera, because it was put out of the revolutionary category by Brock, just became a safe haven for many poets-starting from herself who wrote a series of exquisite but untimely plays at that time-in the revolutionary period, although it was not long-lasting ... but-

It was not a muse, no.

fasten the rope buckle

tightly on my body.

this combination is terrible. -I'm lying in the darkness of the ravine-and the rising sun is already shining.

Ah, who let my

two powerless wings

fly?

In the long poem "Riding on a Red Horse" (1921) marked with the words dedicated to Anna Akhmatova, which was later deleted, there appeared a complex and iconoclastic image of Bloch, the creator of Twelve, the revolutionary Georgi Bobedonochetz, the purest and the most pure.

Within a few days, on May 9 and 14, 192, she met him twice and listened to his recitation at the Moscow Museum of Comprehensive Technology and the Art Palace. She didn't know him, and she didn't have the courage to get to know him. She felt sorry for it, but she was also happy for it, because she thought that only an imaginary meeting would not bring her disappointment ...

(translated by Suzhou and Hangzhou)

Note:

Marina: that is, Zvetayeva's name, and their mother and daughter are like sisters by their first names.

va milioti (1875-1943): Russian painter, who lived in the art palace at that time.

Peter Kogan (1872-1932): Soviet literary theorist.

Vorobev Mountain: the old name of Lenin Mountain in Moscow before 1935.

Ni Vysheslavtsev (189-1952): Russian painter who lived in the art palace at that time, and Zvetayeva had dedicated many poems to him.

pa Antokolski (1896-1978): Russian poet.

Alexander Aleksandrovic: Brock's name and father's name.

Twelve: A long poem by Bloch describing the first days after the October Revolution in the Soviet Union is one of the highest achievements of Russian poetry.

refers to the short poem "Your features are embedded in a simple picture frame ..." (198).

The envelope contains a poem written by Zvetayeva to Brock.

Trediakovski (173-1768): Russian poet, academician of Petersburg Academy of Sciences, and author of A New Compilation of Simple Russian Poetic Method (1735).

It is quoted from Zvetayeva's Poems to Pushkin (1931).

you Annenkov (1889-1974): Russian printmaker and landscape painter, who lived abroad since 1924.

Caotai Opera is a lyric drama by Brock.

It's quoted from Zvetayeva's long poem "Riding on a Red Horse".

Appreciation

A. Evren followed her dear mother Marina into the hall decorated with pink velvet, observed her mother's respected poetic god, Brock, with her excited and clever eyes, and listened to him recite an unusually beautiful poem with reserve: "The misty morning is like a little boy, and you suddenly ran by and bowed. Goodbye! ..... "Has been stored in the author's childhood memory of the light poem, at the moment is unusually monotonous and lack of * * * sound into her eardrum. The child paid attention to the mother's look. She was still dignified and closed her lips, but the excitement that could not be concealed still caught her daughter's eye.

It was at such a recital in aleksandr blok without communication that Evren first touched his mother's reverence for Brock. Her dear mother Marina is a famous Soviet poetess: Marina Ivanovna Zvetayeva. This talented poetess, who has been writing poems since she was 6 years old, has always been a maverick in her creation, never joined any poets' group, and insisted on finding her own way to make her mark in the poetry world. The poetess's life is full of ups and downs, and her love, family and life have never reached a perfect moment. In 1933, she wrote in a private letter: "You can't imagine the poverty I live in. Apart from writing, I don't have any means of livelihood. My husband is sick and can't work. Four people rely on their daughters to knit hats and earn five francs a day to make a living. That is to say, we are starving to death like animals. " Economic helplessness erodes her, while political isolation intensifies her loneliness and whips her pride. Living overseas from 1922 to 1939, because she refused to curse the Soviet Union with the reactionary Belarusian nationals, her poems could no longer be published. After 17 years of bitter life as an expatriate, Zvetayeva returned to the motherland, but she did not expect to be greeted by a series of unreasonable persecution: her daughter and her husband were arrested by the Soviet authorities, one in exile and one in death. As Pasternak said: "Zvetayeva is a woman, but she has a capable heart of a man. She is decisive and resolute, and it is difficult to contain. She went forward in life and creation, and pursued integrity and clarity greedily, even as fiercely as a beast. In this pursuit, she went far and walked ahead of everyone. " This may be the reason why Zvetayeva always faces the situation of "loneliness without protection and sympathy". This proud, stubborn and dignified poetess wrote her last poem on a small piece of paper in 1941-to the Literary Foundation-"I hereby apply for the job of washing dishes in the canteen of the upcoming Literary Foundation". After being rejected, she hanged herself in despair. 4 years later, Zvetayeva used all