Снег лежит… (Snow Lies) by Alexander Vvedensky

snow lies
earth flies
lights flip
to pigments night has come
on a rug of stars it lies
is it night or a demon?
like an inane lever
sleeps the insane river
it is not aware
of the moon everywhere
animals gnash their canines
in black gold cages
animals bang their heads
animals are the ospreys of saints
the world flies around the universe
nearby the white hot stars
flits imperishable bird
seeks a home a nest
there’s no nest a hole
the universe is alone
maybe rarely will pass
time as poor as a night
or a daughter in a bed
will grow sleepy and then dead
then a crowd of revelations
enter in and cry alas
in steel houses
howl loudly
she’s gone and buried
hopped to paradise big-bellied
God God have pity
good God on the precipice
but God said Go play
and she entered paradise
there spun any which way
numbers houses and seas
in the inessential they
what exists in vain perceived
there God languished behind bars
with no eyes no legs no arms
so that maiden in tears
sees all this in the heavens
sees sundry eagles
appear out of night
and fly sullen
and flash silent
this is so depressing
the dead maiden will say
serenely amazed
God will inquire
what’s depressing? what’s
depressing, God, life
what are you talking about
what O noon do you know
you press pleasure and Paris
to your impetuous breast
you dress like music
you undress like a statue
the forest then roared
in lonely despair
it saw through earth’s tares
a meandering ribbon
a strip curvilinear
curvy Lena you are
Mercury was in the air
spinning like a top
and the bear in the bush
sunned his coat
people also walked around
bearing fish on a platter
bearing on their hands
ten fingers on a ladder
while all this went on
that maiden rested
rose from the dead and forgot
yawned and said
you guys, I had a dream
what can it mean
dreams are worse than macaroni
they make crows double over
I was not at all dying
I was gaping and lying
undulating and crying
I was so terrifying
a fit of lethargy
was had by me among the effigies
let’s enjoy ourselves really
let’s gallop to the cinema
she sped off like a she-ass
to satisfy her innermost
lights glint in the heaven
is it night or a demon

by Александр Иванович Введенский
(Alexander Ivanovich Vvendensky)
(January 1930)
translated by Eugene Ostashevsky

The poem set to music.
Исполняют: Владимир Кузнецов и Константин Учитель / Performed by: Vladimir Kuznetsov and Konstantin Uchitel

Снег лежит…

снег лежит
земля бежит
кувыркаются светила
ночь пигменты посетила
ночь лежит в ковре небес
ночь ли это? или бес?
как свинцовая рука
спит бездумная река
и не думает она
что вокруг неё луна
звери лязгают зубами
в клетках чёрных золотых
звери стукаются лбами
звери коршуны святых
мир летает по вселенной
возле белых жарких звёзд
вьётся птицею нетленной
ищет крова ищет гнёзд
нету крова нету дна
и вселенная одна
может изредка пройдёт
время бледное как ночь
или сонная умрёт
во своей постели дочь
и придёт толпа родных
станет руки завивать
в обиталищах стальных
станет громко завывать
умерла она – исчезла
в рай пузатая залезла
Боже Боже пожалей
Боже правый на скале
но ответил Бог играй
и вошла девица в рай
там вертелось вкось и вкривь
числа домы и моря
в несущественном открыв
существующее зря
там томился в клетке Бог
без очей без рук без ног
так девица вся в слезах
видит это в небесах
видит разные орлы
появляются из мглы
и тоскливые летят
и беззвучные блестят
о как мрачно это всё
скажет хмурая девица
Бог спокойно удивится
спросит мёртвую её
что же мрачно дева? Что
мрачно Боже – бытиё
что ты дева говоришь
что ты полдень понимаешь
ты веселье и Париж
дико к сердцу прижимаешь
ты под музыку паришь
ты со статуей блистаешь
в это время лес взревел
окончательно тоскуя
он среди земных плевел
видит ленточку косую
эта ленточка столбы
это Леночка судьбы
и на небе был Меркурий
и вертелся как волчок
и медведь в пушистой шкуре
грел под кустиком бочок
а кругом ходили люди
и носили рыб на блюде
и носили на руках
десять пальцев на крюках
и пока всё это было
та девица отдохнула
и воскресла и забыла
и воскресшая зевнула
я спала сказала братцы
надо в этом разобраться
сон ведь хуже макарон
сон потеха для ворон
я совсем не умирала
я лежала и зияла
извивалась и орала
я пугала это зало
летаргический припадок
был со мною между кадок
лучше будем веселиться
и пойдём в кино скакать
и помчалась как ослица
всем желаньям потакать
тут сияние небес
ночь ли это или бес

Additional information: Alexander Ivanovich Vvedensky (Алекса́ндр Ива́нович Введе́нский; 6 December 1904 – 19 December 1941) was a Russian poet and dramatist with formidable influence on “unofficial” and avant-garde art during and after the times of the Soviet Union. Vvedensky is widely considered (among contemporary Russian writers and literary scholars) as one of the most original and important authors to write in Russian in the early Soviet period. Vvedensky considered his own poetry “a critique of reason more powerful than Kant’s.”

In Tufanov‘s sound-poetry circle he met Daniil Kharms, with whom he went on to found the OBERIU group (in 1928). Together Kharms and Vvedensky, along with several other young writers, actors, and artists, staged various readings, plays, and cabaret-style events in Leningrad in the late 1920s. Vvedensky, as written in the OBERIU manifesto, was considered the most radical poet of the group.

Vvedensky, like Kharms, worked in children’s publishing to get by, and was also quite accomplished in the field. He wrote vignettes for children’s magazines, translated books of children’s literature, and wrote several children’s books of his own.

Editor’s note: If you are reading this on 1 January 2023 then Happy New Year! С новым годом! Blwyddyn Newydd Dda!

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One Man Fell Asleep by Daniil Kharms

One man fell asleep a believer but woke up an atheist.
Luckily, this man kept medical scales in his room, because he was in the habit of weighing himself every morning and every evening. And so, going to sleep the night before, he had weighed himself and had found out he weighed four poods and 21 pounds. But the following morning, waking up an atheist, he weighed himself again and found out that now he weighed only four poods thirteen pounds. “Therefore,” he concluded, “my faith weighed approximately eight pounds.”


by Даниил Иванович Хармс (Daniil Ivanovich Kharms)
a.k.a. Даниил Иванович Ювачёв (Daniil Ivanovich Yuvachov)
(1936-37)
translated by Eugene Ostashevsky

A Fable by Daniil Kharms

One short man said: “I would give anything if only I were even a tiny bit taller.”

He barely said it when he saw a lady medegician standing in front of him.

“What do you want?” says the medegician.

But the short man just stands there so frightened he can’t even speak.

“Well?” says the medegician.

The short man just stands there and says nothing. The medegician vanishes.

And the shortman started crying and biting his nails. First he chewed off all the nails on his fingers, and then on his toes.

—–

Reader! Think this fable over and it will make you somewhat uncomfortable.

 

by Даниил Иванович Хармс (Daniil Ivanovich Kharms)

a.k.a. Даниил Иванович Ювачёв (Daniil Ivanovich Yuvachov)

(1935)

translated by Matvei Yankelevich and Eugene Ostashevsky

Something About Pushkin by Daniil Kharms

It’s hard to say something about Pushkin to a person who doesn’t know anything about him. Pushkin is a great poet. Napoleon is not as great as Pushkin. Bismarck compared to Pushkin is a nobody. And the Alexanders, First, Second and Third, are just little kids compared to Pushkin. In fact, compared to Pushkin, all people are little kids, except Gogol. Compared to him, Pushkin is a little kid.

And so, instead of writing about Pushkin, I would rather write about Gogol.

Although, Gogol is so great that not a thing can be written about him, so I’ll write about Pushkin after all.

Yet, after Gogol, it’s a shame to have to write about Pushkin. But you can’t write anything about Gogol. So, I’d rather not write anything about anyone.

 

by Даниил Иванович Хармс (Daniil Ivanovich Kharms)

a.k.a. Даниил Иванович Ювачёв (Daniil Ivanovich Yuvachov)

(15 December 1936)

translated by Matvei Yankelevich and Eugene Ostashevsky

О.Л.С. (F.L.F.) by Daniil Kharms

The forest sways its tippy-tops,

people walk around with pots,

catching water from air with them.

In the sea, water bends.

But fire will not bend to the very end.

Fire loves airy freedom.

 

by Даниил Иванович Хармс (Daniil Ivanovich Kharms)

a.k.a. Даниил Иванович Ювачёв (Daniil Ivanovich Yuvachov)

(21/22 August 1933)

translated by Matvei Yankelevich


Fun facts: The original Russian title, О.Л.С., is an acronym of three of the last lines four words – огонь любит воздушную свободу (Ogon’ Liubit vozdushnuyu Svobodu) i.e. Fire Loves airy Freedom.