Gumilev. Li
Bo. The Dragon.
The
Porcelain Pavilion.
Posting #4.
“…Have
the strong ones left the world,
So
that I would give the knowledge to you?
I
will pass it on… to the waterfalls and the clouds,
To
the seven-star constellation in the black sky,
Curving
up like myself…
Or
to the wind, son of Fortune…
But
not to a creature with hot blood,
Which
does not know how to glitter!”
N. S. Gumilev. The Poem of the Beginning.
The Dragon.
Li Bo does not say how many friends are conversing and
writing down their poetry. But in Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita we find eight major Russian poets, six of whom
are Bulgakov’s contemporaries, and all eight of them have suffered a tragic
fate.
Bulgakov does a great job disguising his poets. And
only four of them are endowed with swords and berets plumed with eagle
feathers. Which naturally constitutes part of the disguise, misleadingly
pointing in the direction of France, habitually leading astray Bulgakovian
scholars.
Li Bo’s words in translation may be known to the
Western world, but the hieroglyphs remain up to this day a total mystery, a
great secret of the Chinese civilization. Only a great poet, such as Gumilev,
could penetrate that secret by the sheer force of his poetic genius and his
language-transcending intuitive vision.
Gumilev’s dragon knows no words, he only knows the
signs and symbols inscribed by the Priest Maradita “with a black pike in the sand.” However, even at the doorstep of
death he has no intention of passing his knowledge on to people. –
“I
will pass it on [his knowledge]…
To
the waterfalls and the clouds,
To
the seven-star constellation in the black sky,
Curving
up like myself…
Or
to the wind, son of Fortune…
But
not to a creature with hot blood,
Which
does not know how to glitter!”
Because the only way the dragon could converse with
others was through the “glittering of its scales,” the Priest kills the dragon
with his black pike for its unwillingness to share its knowledge.
“And
unswervingly staring into
The
mist of the already dimming eyes,
Of
the dying dragon,
Ruler
of the ancient races.”
The Priest’s superiority consists in his voice, his
speaking ability.
“A
voice rich, thick, and full,
Uttered
for the first time in ages
The
forbidden word: OM!”
Gumilev calls it in his poem “the mysterious word OM,” and also “the sanctified word OM.” The power of this word OM was such that,
as Gumilev writes –
“The
spread-out branches of the sycamores
Lay
down flat on the sand,
No
force of the hurricanes
Could
ever bend them like that until now…
The
dragon shuddered and once again
He
cast his glance on the intruder.
Death
was fighting the power of the word in him,
Unknown
until now…
Without
voice, without movement,
He
carried his suffering and waited.
The
white chill of the last pain
Swam
upon his heart, and it seemed that almost
He
was about to escape from
The
human will, burning his heart…”
The last 12th song of the Poem of the Beginning is amazing. And
the way Bulgakov used it in his Pontius
Pilate it is prophetic:
“The
Priest realized that the loss was frightening,
And
that there was no way to fool death,
He
raised the right paw of the beast
And
placed it on his own chest…”
In such a manner, the “hot-blooded creature” decided
to prove his superiority to the dragon.
“Drops
of blood from the fresh wound
Flowed
red and warm,
Like
springs at a red dawn
From
the depths of a chalky rock.
Its
streams shone crimson
Like
a wondrous sacred sash…”
Through his flowing blood, the Priest forces the
dragon to pass on his knowledge to him. –
“And
when without words, without movement,
The
Priest asked him again with his gaze
About
the birth, the transfiguration,
And
the end of the primordial forces…”
…the dragon obeyed, “having drunk life” out of human
blood. As N. S. Gumilev writes, closing his Poem
of the Beginning –
“And
the sparkle of the scales shone
On
the faraway cliffs of the steeps,
As
though a non-human voice,
Transformed
from sound to a beam of light.”
At the price of his life the Priest Maradita was able
to read the answer to his question, for he said it himself to the dragon –
“You
see, I know the sacred signs
Which
are kept in your scales,
Their
glitter from the sun and copper
I
had studied day and night,
I
watched how you were delirious in your
sleep,
Through
the changing fire of grief…”
Gumilev’s Poem
of the Beginning is allegorical, and it has a connection not only to Master and Margarita, but to Bulgakov’s
other works, such as for instance to Fateful
Eggs, where a beam of light is born in the laboratory of Professor
Persikov. What is most important, however, is that it was precisely the study
of Gumilev’s creative work that helped Bulgakov become that kind of mystical
writer which he considered himself to be.
To be continued…
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