“I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness―in a landscape selected at random―is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants.- nabokov
Monday, November 27, 2023
Wednesday, July 12, 2023
Sunday, July 9, 2023
Tuesday, May 30, 2023
Tuesday, May 23, 2023
Saturday, April 1, 2023
Friday, March 31, 2023
Thursday, March 30, 2023
Evgeny Baratynsky "I Love You, Goddesses Of Singing"
Evgeny Baratynsky
"I Love You, Goddesses Of Singing"
I love you, goddesses of singing, But your invasion, so fine, That tremor of the spirit thrilling, Is a herald of the future pines. The Muses’ love and Fortune’s striking Are one. I’m silent. I’m afraid: My fingers, casting on the light strings, Might here awake these storms and lightnings In which my sleeping fate was laid. And, with strong torments ever wound, I leave the Muse, who favours me, And say: “Till tomorrow, sounds, Let the day expire quietly.”
Thursday, February 23, 2023
Do not sing, beauty, with me ... Alexander Pushkin
Do not sing, beauty, with me ...
Alexander Pushkin
Not about _´th , beautiful _´vice , with me _´
You are _´Sep Gr y´zia oven _´linen:
Reminder _´yut me he e´
Friend _´y life and b e´reg da _´linen.
Alas _´! a reminder´yut me
Yours and´ gesture about´kie nape _´You
And the steppe , and the night - and in the moonlight´
Damn _´distant, b´bottom d e´you .
I'm pr and´mind m and´ly, rock o´th ,
I am you´ SW and´dev , forgetting a´Yu;
But you sing - and before me´th
Er o´I 'm imagining again´y .
Not about´y, beautiful´vice, with me´
You are´Sep Gr u´zia oven´linen:
Reminder _´yut me he e´
Friend _´y life and b e´reg da´linen.
Wednesday, August 24, 2022
We took a closer look at the origins of Russia’s second largest religion
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Tuesday, April 26, 2022
And as the world vomits up war
*
And as the world vomits up war
And retreats into emptiness,
Spring’s begun dividing
her storks and cranes among us
There’s a power in this northern migration,
Edging out fear and assent,
While out on the spring ice
A primordial evil lands in your hands
The future tense and past tense
Got stuck in the muck of grammar
The storks fell asleep in their nests
Not yet having arrived
Only the Ukrainian Army and its volunteers
are awake. In this countdown to a new era—
a baby born in a basement
will receive the holy tablets
2.
If only I could, like a nighttime moth,
whisper to this moment, “stop”
and reach the light, crawl behind the backdrop,
as though it had never been winter.
The moth would fly off to the muse Urania,
to a branch of Iwaszkiewicz’s pine.
The vintner is pouring the birds his wine,
growing painlessly drunk, himself.
Lullaby of winter, rock me, leave me
in a warm fur coat to write poetry,
and drive the hares from the apple trees,
so they won’t eat the shoots in their dreams,
look around at the grain, at your loved ones, at us,
let it be Christmastime again.
And after that, spring, and let us be alive,
and the moth is still resting inside my sleeve…
Yesterday, I put on my father’s pants.
They fit me now.
I remember him well in them
around the age I am now.
Tanned. Elusive.
Or was I running slowly around him?
Tо the place where his pants were the color of coffee with milk,
and not vomit with vodka.
I always ran with a much older crowd.
Searching, I guess, for the fisherman, the amateur photographer,
the grower of tomatoes under a heat-lamp
for my Christmas-birthday,
the electrical engineer, far away
in my childhood forests,
that one, who at fourteen,
saw his first lightbulb.
4.
The forest is almost ours,
like the salt in the salt-shaker.
It’s calm and has no fear,
for from its mouth and eyelashes bird to bird
and ravine to ravine
nod as if to friends:
and you are glad.
Ulysses, forest, come back to us,
for my father has merged with you
and has become like you—
squirrely, snowy and avian,
if only I could send my son
your letters.
5.
Snow is falling on Krakow the kind
that slows your phrases and slows your actions
that slows the tears dripping from your lashes
out of wartime fear for Kyiv
Krakow’s a raincoat, a junior size,
where you’ll find yourself hidden deep in a pocket
Unharmed, and in the other side’s
despair and a pain that won’t subside.
You are Szymborska’s cigarette lighter
inside that pocket, the one on the right.
But a sea of trouble spilled out in the left,
as big as the floodplain in Irpin.
Translated, from the Ukrainian, by Amelia Glaser and Yuliya Ilchuk.
____________________________________
Natalia Belchenko is a poet and translator. Born in Kyiv, she is a recipient of the Hubert Burda Prize (Germany, 2000) and the National Writer’s Union of Ukraine Mykola Ushakov Prize in Literature (Ukraine, 2006). Finalist of the Gennady Grigoriev Prize (Russia, 2013), the L. Vysheslavsky’s “Poet’s Planet” prize-winner (Ukraine, 2014). Her works include eight collections of poetry and numerous magazine selections and anthology publications, both in Ukraine and abroad (in English, German, French, Polish, Korean, Dutch, Bulgarian, etc.).
Friday, April 8, 2022
💓Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita, Chapter 25
Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita, Chapter 25
Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze. Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet. Age: five thousand three hundred days. Profession: none, or "starlet" Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze? Why are you hiding, darling? (I Talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling). Where are you riding, Dolores Haze? What make is the magic carpet? Is a Cream Cougar the present craze? And where are you parked, my car pet? Who is your hero, Dolores Haze? Still one of those blue-capped star-men? Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays, And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen! Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts! Are you still dancin', darlin'? (Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts, And I, in my corner, snarlin'). Happy, happy is gnarled McFate Touring the States with a child wife, Plowing his Molly in every State Among the protected wild life. My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair, And never closed when I kissed her. Know an old perfume called Soliel Vert? Are you from Paris, mister? L'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita; Son fele -- bien fol est qui s'y fie! Il neige, le decor s'ecroule, Lolita! Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie? Dying, dying, Lolita Haze, Of hate and remorse, I'm dying. And again my hairy fist I raise, And again I hear you crying. Officer, officer, there they go-- In the rain, where that lighted store is! And her socks are white, and I love her so, And her name is Haze, Dolores. Officer, officer, there they are-- Dolores Haze and her lover! Whip out your gun and follow that car. Now tumble out and take cover. Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze. Her dream-gray gaze never flinches. Ninety pounds is all she weighs With a height of sixty inches. My car is limping, Dolores Haze, And the last long lap is the hardest, And I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust
Tuesday, March 22, 2022
The abdication of Tsar Nicholas II, March 1917 speech
In the days of the great struggle against the foreign enemies, who for nearly three years have tried to enslave our fatherland, the Lord God has been pleased to send down on Russia a new heavy trial. Internal popular disturbances threaten to have a disastrous effect on the future conduct of this persistent war.
The destiny of Russia, the honour of our heroic army, the welfare of the people and the whole future of our dear fatherland demand that the war should be brought to a victorious conclusion whatever the cost. The cruel enemy is making his last efforts, and already the hour approaches when our glorious army, together with our gallant allies, will crush him. In these decisive days in the life of Russia, We thought it our duty of conscience to facilitate for our people the closest union possible and a consolidation of all national forces for the speedy attainment of victory.
In agreement with the Imperial Duma we have thought it well to renounce the throne of the Russian Empire and to lay down the supreme power. As We do not wish to part from our beloved son, We transmit the succession to our brother, the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich, and give him our blessing to mount the throne of the Russian Empire.
"In the name of our dearly beloved homeland, we call on our faithful sons of the fatherland to fulfil their sacred duty to the fatherland, to obey the tsar in the heavy moment of national trials, and to help him, together with the representatives of the people, to guide the Russian Empire on the road to victory, welfare, and glory. May the Lord God help Russia!
Wednesday, March 16, 2022
4 things Russia could do as default looms
Good morning. In today's newsletter: Breaking down the significance of a Russian default. Plus, stocks jump ahead of the Federal Reserve's policy announcement, and AMC just bought a (literal) gold mine.
US stock futures are up sharply. Markets in Europe rallied in early trading, following stocks in Asia.
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What's happening now in markets: ▲ Dow futures 33,835 (+1.22%) ▲ S&P futures 4,310 (+1.32%) ▲ Nasdaq futures 13,704 (+1.89%) ▲ US 10-year yield 2.160% ▼ Gold $1,926.30 (-0.18%) ▼ US oil $96.27 (-0.18%) ▲ Bitcoin $40,621.10 (+2.37%) MARKET DATA AS OF 8:10 AM EDT |
Zelensky lights new fire under Congress — with limits
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