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Author Topic: Poetry  (Read 302 times)

Offline deicide

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Poetry
« on: October 03, 2018, 04:24:20 AM »
As a student, was impressed by Alexander Blok, in fact, his decadent, or "Russian silver age" period poetry, united into The Frightful World cycle (isn't it reminiscent of a certain something?) was exactly what sparkled my interest in certain matters since it dealt with topics such as decline of humanity, loss of one's soul, feeling like a walking corpse among living, spiritual death and so on.

There are no official English translations, unofficial ones aren't any good so I've roughly translated (trying to preserve both an original metre and sense) a few final verses from the poem about one night romance, isn't the most original, but representative, in order to give some impression:

Quenched eyes, dimmed candles, words faded
You're dead, finally dead!
I know, your blood I drank
Laid you into a coffin and sung
Dreary nights, of clement spring
Blood of yours in me will sing.


It's peculiar that he was remarkably candid with women IRL, never pretended that a short affection was anything else, and never actually broke anyone's heart.

Alex was a clear deviant, the loner among Russian decadents, as punny as it sounds, an exact opposite from stereotypical hysterical borderline suicidal cocaine pussy which they're often (and for a good reason) labelled, being well-balanced, uncompromising, perfectionistic and notoriously tough. Wasn't fond of this scene craze, cocaine, either. When faced with desire to try drugs as well, it was Morphine that had become his true love.
He's infamous for breaking one time into a local pharmacy at night when runned out of it (was going to purchase, but slept away their working hours). Not only he got away with that, after coming home and reloading the fuel, he blatantly wrote a poem about the deed thinly veiled as a sucider going for the poison.
The dude clearly had a lot of fun imagining himself a vampire, with Morphine for blood.

Doesn't it remind of something as well?
« Last Edit: October 04, 2018, 11:45:39 AM by deicide »
The patient was a young lady whom I was loath to disfigure (c)

Offline Gossamer

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #1 on: October 03, 2018, 01:48:50 PM »
I relate, not to the morphine addiction, but imagining myself as a vampire on this forum, in vtmb, and in regular cram is incredibly fun.

Offline deicide

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #2 on: October 04, 2018, 03:19:18 AM »
A decadent poet who keeps a handy burglar kit around and could be easily mistaken for a Brujah philosopher from VtM. Warrior poet indeed, in both senses.
The message of this apparently unoriginal poem is also of some interest, I think he meant that though the feelings lasted as long as a victim drained dry by a vampire, they nonetheless were real, memories will remain, so a part of her, probably, happier, life is a part of his from now.

It's ridiculous that the stuff from a well known top echelon poet who was obsessed by writing quality did not get an official English translation, both from decadence/symbolism and latter, realism period.
« Last Edit: October 04, 2018, 11:47:04 AM by deicide »
The patient was a young lady whom I was loath to disfigure (c)