From Blok's diary
April 1st, 1919
In poetry and in prose - in all artistic creation - what's most important is the spirit wafting throughout it. This corresponds to the vulgarity "the spirit of poetry"; and yet, the "vox populi, the voice of the people is God's voice". It's another matter altogether that this spirit is typically reflected in "forms" much clearer than in the "content". Nevertheless, the reader's attention should largely be directed towards the spirit, at which point it would depend on the quality of our craft whether it would be possible to rid that term of "vulgarity" and to breathe into it authentic meaning which always remains unchangeable. Thus, even in its naivete and vulgarity, the "public" is right to demand from literature both "spirit and content". It is far more correct in that demand than we, the specialists, are when - under all kinds of pretexts - we aspire to liberate literature from a need to provide any manner of service, utility, etc…
I now fear all expressions of the "art for art's sake" tendency, since such a tendency contradicts the very essence of what art is and also because, when we follow it to its conclusion, by the end of the road we simply end up losing every trace of art. After all, art is born out of the eternal interaction of two kinds of music: the music of the creative personality and the music which sounds in the depth of the national spirit, the music of the masses. All genuinely great art is born only at the point where these two electric currents connect.
Twelve
By Alexander Blok
1
Black the evening.
White the snow.
Wind beats, wind beats!
And there stands not a soul.
Wind beats, wind beats –
All through God’s own realms!
Now wind is weaving
White snowfluff
And under snow - it's icy!
Slippery, tough
Each walker
Slides - ah, what a pity!
From building to building
Stretching,
Pulls a thickly-wound cable.
On the cable – a placard
Voicing:
“All Rule to the Constituent Assembly!”
A little old woman fusses up – weeps,
Just wouldn't get it, what it all means,
What for - this big placard,
This big fabric piece?
How many foot-wraps could've been sown for the kids?
But instead, just pick one – got no clothes, no shoes…
The little old thing, like a chicken.
Barely swings over a snow-bank.
-- Oh, Holy Mother, my Protectress!
-- Oh, Bolsheviks will shut my casket case!
The wind is lashing!
The frost keeps up as well!
And a bourgeois on the corner's
Hid his nose into a coat collar..
And who is this? – With the long hair
And speaking softly, like he’s barely there:
--- Traitors!
--- Perished, our Russia! ---
Must be, the writer ---
Of some eloquence…
And right over yonder, mister long robe –
Slyly --- hides behind a snowbank…
Why so upset these days,
Comrade priest?
Do you recall, how once it was,
You walked around with your gut-upfront,
Your big belly shining
With a cross to the folk?..
Here a fancy lady warm in a caracul
Ran into another madam:
- How we cried and cried…
She slips up
And – bam – on the ground's
All stretched out!
Hey! Hey! Hey!
Lend a hand, help me up!
The wind so joyous
Both angry, and glad.
It spirals coat hems,
Cuts down pedestrians,
Rips, bends, and tosses
That humongous poster:
“All Rule to the Constituent Assembly”…
And carries words across:
… And we too had an assembly…
... Right here in this building…
… Discussed –
… Decreed:
For the night – twenty five; for an hour - ten…
… And don't take any less from anyone…
… Let’s go sleep now….
Late evening.
The street empties.
Only a single vagrant
Bends and hunches,
And the wind whistles…
Hey, poor boy!
Come closer ---
Let’s make out…
I demand bread!
Who's that ahead?
Come on through!
And the sky is black, so black...
Spite, sorrowful spite,
Boils in the breast…
Black spite, blesséd spite…
Comrade! Watch out
With both eyes!
2
Wind lets loose, fluttering snow.
There are twelve of them as they go
Black is the belt where each rifle hangs-
All around them flare up - flames, flames, flames...
A rolled cig in the teeth, a well-crumpled cap,
Slap an ace of diamonds to his back!
Freedom, freedom goes -
Hey! -
Without a cross!
Bam-bam-bam!
It's so cold,
Comrades, cold!
- Vanya and Katya - in the drinking hole...
- Stuffing down her socks that Kerensky dough!
- And Vanya too grows rich somehow...
- Was once with ours, he's a soldier now!
- Son of a bitch, Vanya, boughie man!
- Come and kiss my ass, soldier, if you can!
Freedom, freedom goes -
Hey! -
Without a cross!
Vanya busies Katya!
Busy doing what?..
Trata tata ta!
And around them flare up -
flames, flames, flames!
From their shoulders hang down - rifle belts!
March ahead with Revolution's feet!
Our dauntless enemy never sleeps!
Comrade, don't cower, your rifle hold fast!
Let's blast a bullet at Russia the Blessed!
At the wooden-hutted,
Fat-assed,
Dense!
Hey, hey, hey
And without a cross!
3
How our local kids went off -
In the Red Guard went to serve –
In the Red Guard went to serve –
Drop their hotheads to the earth!
Oh you, bitter-bitterness;
Oh, sweet life of fun!
A torn up little overcoat,
An Austrian gun!
To grieve boughies everyplace,
We'll ignite a world-sized blaze
Fire across the world in blood!
Global fire, so bless us God!
4
Swirling snow, wild cabby cries,
Vanya next to Katya flies –
And a small elecstric flashlight
Dances from the rushing sled…
Hey hey hey, away, ahead!..
All dressed up in a soldier’s coat,
With the face of an idiot,
Twirling, twirling his black whisker,
And twisting, and twisting,
And kidding, and kidding...
Look at Vanya – so broad-shouldered!
Look at Vanya – so well-worded!
Hugging, hugging foolish Katya,
Talking her top off…
Now she’d lift that face of hers,
Tiny teeth would glisten: pearls…
Oh you, Katya! Oh, my Katya!..
Oh, my fatty-face…
5
Katya, right there on your neck,
There’s a knife-scar that remains.
Katya, why, beneath your breast,
There’s a scratch and it’s still fresh!
Hey, hey, do your dance!
Much too fine those little legs!
Strolled in lacy undergarments –
Stroll-away-hey, stroll-away!
With the officers philandered –
Whore-away-hey, whore away!
Hey, hey, whore away!
In her heart a sudden pain.
Do you still recall the sergeant –
How the knife tore up his flesh…
Maybe, scum, you can’t remember?
Or is memory not fresh?
Hey, hey, freshen up!
Let him sleep next to your lap!
Walked around in those gray gaiters,
Guzzled candy bars "Mignon"…
With the junkers promenaded –
Now the soldiers leading on?
Hey, hey, sin away!
Far more light the soul would weigh!
6
…Again the rider sweeps ahead,
He flies, he yells and wails like mad…
Stop, stop! Andrey, now help me here!
Run, Petya, get him from the rear!
Bambambambam-bam-bam-bam-bry!
The snowy ash weaves through the sky!
Just watch that fiend – with Vanya – run...
Another round! Raise triggers, now!
Bam-bambambam! So that you learn
What happens when you snatch a girl!..
The bastard's fled! Don't hold your breath!
Tomorrow it's just you and death!
But where is Katya? – Dead, she’s dead!
A gunshot ran right through her head!
Well, Katya, happy? – Not a word…
Then lay there, dead meat, on the snow!
March ahead with Revolution's feet!
Our dauntless foe, he never sleeps!
7
And again the twelve keep pace,
At their shoulders rifles show...
Just the wretched killer's face
Slips into a heart of woe.
Faster, faster, faster yet
He is speeding up his step...
But can't shake it off his back..
Ties a scarf around his neck…
- Comrade, hey there, why unhappy?
- Are you bugging out there, buddy?.
- Why'd you droop your nose, Petruha,
Or for Katya feeling sorry?
- Oh my brothers, oh my comrades,
I sure loved that girly so...
Many evenings, black and saucy,
I would spend right next to her.
- All because of fatal boldness
Hiding in her flaming eyes,
Of a crimson birthmark burning
By her right-hand shoulder side!..
And I killed her, what a moron,
Ruined her in frenzy.... Why!
- Look, you wretch, you better shut it,
What are you a broad now, huh?
- Spare us this revealing moment.
Like a soul worn inside out!
- Keep your posture good and straight!
- Get a grip upon yourself!
- These are not the proper days,
Wasting time to nurse you straight!
And the times will only get,
My dear comrade, tougher yet!
And Petruha’s slowing down
His uneasy rapid steps.
He lifts up his boyish head!
There is joy upon his face...
Hey, hey, hey! Well, heyhey, hun!
It’s no sin to have some fun!
Lock your attics, lock your floors,
For tonight the robber goes!
But those cellar stores leave wide -
For the rabble romps tonight!
8
Oh, you bitter bitterness!
Boredom boringmost,
Murderous!
Why, some timey time
I'll sure spend, sure spend…
Why, on top a bitty head
I'll sure scratch, sure scratch…
Why, some sunflower seeds,
I'll sure shell, sure shell…
Why, with my tiny knife,
I'll sure slash, sure slash…
Now, you fly, bougie, fly as a sparrow babe!
Your sweet blood I'll drink down
For my heartthrob hon,
For my black-browed one...
Grant rest, good Lord, to the soul
Of your servant, the maiden…
How boring!
9
One hears no more of city's clamor,
The Nevsky spire in silence stands,
The city guardsman's gone forever -
So revel without wine, my friends.
A bougie stands by crossing streets,
Into the collar hides his nose.
A wretched hound, right next to him,
Would tuck its tail and cringe its furs.
The bougie, like that starving hound,
Stands speechless as a question mark.
The old world, like some wretched hound,
Stands by him with its tail well-tucked.
10
Well, the blizzard’s getting wild:
Crazy blizzard! Stormy play!
Everybody's gone from sight,
Even from four steps away!
Snow into a funnel swirls,
Snow into a column rose…
- What a blizzard, Jesus save us!
- Petka! Hey, don’t gorge on lies!
Just from what have golden icons
Ever saved you, by and by?
You’re utterly unconscious!
Use your reason, think it out!
Aren't bloody hands the only
Consequence of Katya's love?
- Keep up with Revolution's step!
Our tireless foe is close ahead!
Keep on, keep on!
Oh, working folk!
11
... Having left the holy name behind,
All twelve – walk far along.
Well-prepared for anything they find,
They pity nothing at all...
Their steely darling rifles
Aimed at a phantom foe…
Through muted alleys no one,
But storming snowflakes, go...
And into feathered snowbanks -
Where boots get stuck in snow…
Scarlet flag
Strikes the eyes.
Far resounds
The even pace
Mortal foe
Soon will rise.
And the blizzard dusts their eyes
Days and nights
Away…
Forward, forward,
Working folk!
Forward and ahead!
12
…Off they go in valiant step…
- Who’s out there? Now show yourself!
Just the wind up in the distance
Playing with the scarlet flag….
There’s a snowbank up ahead
- You in the snowbank, show yourself!..
Just the pooch, all poor and hungry,
Totters softly in the back…
- Now get lost, you mongrel creature
Or my bayonet will get you!
I say, old world, make like that dog;
Drop out of sight or feel my poke!
… Bares his teeth – the hungry wolf –
Tail's tucked-in – but follows through –
Ice-cold hound, the kinless mongrel…
- Hey, respond, who’s out there walking?
- Who’s there waving that red flag?
- No use looking, darkness black!
- Who’s out there that walks so quickly
Digging in by every wall?
- All the same, somehow I’ll get you,
Best surrender while you breathe!
- Hey there, comrade, won’t end well,
We’ll start shooting, show yourself!
Bam-bam-bam! And only echoes
Answer from the darkened walls…
Just the blizzard with its laughter
Rolls along the fallen snow…
Bam-bam-bam!
Bam-bam-bam!
…And so they walk a valiant stride,
The starving dog treads close behind,
While ahead – with a bloody banner,
And behind the snow unseen,
Safe from any bullet’s sting,
Softly pacing over snowdrops,
Through the snowy pearly swirls,
In a wreath of roses white -
Leading them walks Jesus Christ.
- Petrograd, January 1918