***
I am walking along the garden with sails
Embedded in sky so blue – they thought it was the sea.
The Church of St Mary Magdalena – lime alley under the sun clock,
Leaves are chirring under the feet like dry souls of five o’clock teacups.
Dancing small ones are trying to hold heaven on their palms,
Leaves incurved are kept the prints of sight -
Those dwelling in a shell later unfold in bosom at night…
None is in the room but no limits for ‘might’,
Lady, transformed into waltz, now herself transforms hooks
Into breathing-outs – so silently apples are falling.
And smell of new silk velvet in angel’s grand opera theatre
Reminds me days in May when we were happy – transparent and exceeding.
This Church of May, its subtle columns like notes
For the orchestra, playing its Sunday sacred hymns in the park
With statures of Aphrodite and Dionysus.
René Magritte World
6 comments:
Olia, let it be Church of May all round you in your life!
Is it your poem or Bunin's?
Thank you, Gene. Is it a well-tuned compliment about Bunin? :)
It's mere my poem. I was looking for the translations, and found just page with selected poems of Ivan Alekseevich Bunin: http://www.friends-partners.org/friends/culture/literature/20century/bunin2.html(opt,mozilla,mac,english,,new)
His poetry is very refined... Sometimes something loses in trasmission, maybe. He is the Russian Mozart, I would say.
It should be noted that such great Russian poets, as Vladimir Nabokov (I love his poems! Its another world of his genius, especcialy those written in Russia before 1918 when he was young) and Arsenij Tarkovsky felt his influence.
Interesting to hear the audio version of V. Nabokov's reading of his works here:
http://www.dinosaurgardens.com/archives/245
Really his poems, written in Russia and those ones of early 20ss are absolutely another world... Clear, chrystal and romantic.
Church of May? :))) Its marvellous!
Olia, I’ve read all the poems by Ivan Bunin on Friends & Partners. In short, they resounded through my feelings and senses. I felt that there was an affinity between Robert Frost and him. I don’t know how much poetry he wrote, but I think it’s a shame that his poems have not been published in English. If they have, I can’t find any. So I guess I’ll have to be content with the few I read. No wonder you like him so.
I also checked out the recording of Nabokov’s reading. His son Dimitri Nabokov must have inherited his father’s deep resonant voice. I had known his voice before from a 1969 interview by BBC: http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcfour/audiointerviews/profilepages/nabokovv1.shtml
Thanks, Gene
For the Nabokov interview I mentioned in the previous comment, click here. Strangely it didn't save the compleate address.
Thank you for the link, Gene. And I am so happy you liked Bunin's poetry. To listen the interview I have to install the RealPlayer first. :)
An affinity - yes, something from here, some intangible flavour really -
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Now I see why I love these lines from Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening... Indeed they remind me Bunin's high soul. Thank you for coherence.
There are many poets that can touch the strings of soul and it sings - John Donne, Eliot, Yeats, Dickinson, many really - but Bunin... There's a close affinity between us. :) As you have said - something poignant...
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