The Bard.
Berlioz Is
Dead.
Kuzmin Is In
Leeches.
Long Live
Bosoy!
Posting #13.
“...A bald lantern
lasciviously removes
The black stocking from the
street.”
Vladimir Mayakovsky. From a Street Into a Street.
The
same program presenter asks Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoy where the $400US found in
his toilet room had come from. The answer is amazing, also pointing to the fact
that Bosoy’s prototype must be V. Ya. Bryusov:
“Magic! – said someone
[sic!] in the dark hall, with an obvious irony. – That’s what it was, magic! – shyly replied Nikanor Ivanovich to an
undetermined addressee, either to the artiste or to the dark hall, and he
clarified: It was the demonic force, the
checkered translator, he planted the money!
And again the hall roared in disbelief... The artiste addressed
Nikanor Ivanovich in reproach and sorrow: You
have saddened me, Nikanor Ivanovich! And I was so much counting on you!”
In
the course of my work, I was able to uncover yet another personage. The program
presenter, whom M. A. Bulgakov persistently calls “artiste,” before calling up
Bosoy, addresses the “scoundrels sitting on the floor with the following
speech.” –
“Hm! – said the artiste
thoughtfully. – I don’t understand this,
how come you aren’t tired yet. All normal people are walking the streets now
enjoying the spring sun and warmth, and you are here on the floor in a stuffy
hall!”
And
then it came to me! I remembered Marina Tsvetaeva’s memoirs of Bryusov:
“The street – is Bryusov’s favorite manifestation of magic.”
This
line contains a decoding of the words “magic” from the “dark hall,” and also
“the street,” mentioned by the program presenter. Even the dream of Nikanor
Ivanovich itself is linked to Marina Tsvetaeva. She titled the second
collection of her poems published in 1912: The
Magic Lantern [probably referring to the movie projector].
Having
written the poem To Bryusov, Marina
Tsvetaeva prefaces the following note, clearly in reference to Bryusov’s Fiery Angel. –
“Curiously, this poem appeared after a dream about him [Bryusov]
with Renata [the heroine of The
Fiery Angel], magic [dream]
which he never learned about.”
And
also, analyzing several poems of Bryusov, Marina Tsvetaeva writes:
“The noise of the
carriages, the glitter of the shop-windows, the shifting faces, and among
several faces – suddenly one, the only one for a moment – that’s the
magic of the street! Who is she – that stranger? But does it make any
difference?! Glaring out of her eyes are the unique and the mystery.”
After
this, when Marina Tsvetaeva finally presents her poem To Bryusov, she recommends the reader to pay special attention only
to the poem’s ending:
“...You
again for a moment [sic!]
Appeared to me as a great
poet.”
One
more interpretation of Marina Tsvetaeva’s love for railroad trains:
“Oh the magic of old Germany! Oh Heinrich Heine! Thinking about
Germany brings me to the magic of the railroad car [sic!]. The train is
speeding on. Behind the windows it’s night. In this lit compartment – someone’s
green eyes... There is no love dreamier than love abandoned by magic... The
heart of love is – magic!”
And
so, here is another proof that Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoy, alongside M. A. Berlioz
and Pontius Pilate, has V. Ya. Bryusov as his prototype. And this can only be
discovered with the help of Marina Tsvetaeva’s memoirs.
Returning
to the theme of the “street,” I have already quoted the Russian poet N. S.
Gumilev, who wrote that Bryusov was claimed as their own by all numerous
movements of Russian poetry of the time. That’s because of the great influence
Bryusov had on all poets, including V. V. Mayakovsky, who experimented with the
word “street” (like he experimented with many other words). In his poem From A Street Into A Street, Mayakovsky
plays with the pun around the word “ulitsa”
[street] homonymous in Russian with the two words “u litsa” [ face].
V.
Mayakovsky’s incredible experimentation with words, sounds, and images makes it
nearly impossible to translate him from Russian into other languages. Even
“perfect” translation, whatever that means, must sacrifice the complexity of
the whole, and the inevitable explanations overburdening whatever we want to
retain in the translation will no doubt annoy the foreign reader by their
clumsy intrusion in the sequence of the genius poet’s wild imagery.
Still,
I cannot resist offering to the reader the breathtaking ending of Mayakovsky’s
poem From A Street Into A Street:
“...A
bald lantern lasciviously removes
The black stocking from the
street.”
A
special reason why I remembered this poem comes out clear in the following
lines:
“A
magician pulls rails
Out of the jaws of a tram…”
Hence the clarity of the
words of Andrei Fokich Sokov in the 18th chapter of Part I of Master and Margarita: The Hapless Visitors:
“Yesterday you
were kindly doing some magic tricks…”
And also in the 3rd
chapter: The Seventh Proof:
“…The tram covered Berlioz, and thrown
under the grid of the Patriarch Alley
was a round-shaped dark object, bouncing over the cobblestones of Bronnaya
Street. It was the cut-off head of Berlioz.”
Yet
again we come up with Mayakovsky-Woland:
And I –
In the reading room of the
streets –
Too often turned the leaves
of the coffin’s tome.”
To
be continued…
***
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