sophisticated way of development,
always appreciated by editors and readers;
that has been created exactly in the same way
as a poetic work
some thoughts and speculations
written in different times
by the same modest
The Artist is the creator of beautiful things.
Art is quite useless.
picture of Dorian Gray
GOD AND EDITORS
In six days God created the world,
Six times He appreciated His own creation,
As if He had a general idea while pronouncing His Word
But wasn't sure how it would look in three dimensions.
If He were a poet, a nameless young guy
Naively seeking a literary agent
And hopelessly researching a literary guide,
What kind of criticism he'd receive--
one can only imagine.
Indeed, "Where's the logic?" the editor would say,
Rejecting the manuscript, "You first created light
And then the celestial bodies--only on the fourth day!"
And he would be absolutely right.
God wasn't obliged to participate in such a battle:
He managed to establish on time certain connections.
So they finally accepted for the Bible
His golden collection.
GOD AND THE ARTIST: SIMILARITY OF METHODS
What is in common between God's and the artist's creation
That both are against any programmed linkage
Between final and initial steps.
This turns on their imagination
And makes unexpected any upcoming image.
They both start from a complete mess,
Both create the unique, not the rules,
Both are constantly changing in many ways
And are not familiar to the stable Truth.
All the diversity descended from light,
Hatched out like artistic details
evolving a predisposition.
Both God and the artist elaborate this technique to apply it,
And this is their only goal and their only mission.
ARTISTIC MIND VERSUS COMMON SENSE
Scientists keep their universe in complete order.
Their logic's just as a train that drives one
from station to station.
The artist creates his kingdom on water,
And one must build linkages,
using his imagination.
The state of artists is based on subjectivity,
Consolidated in the first paragraph
of its constitution,
That defends all kinds of useless creativity
From common sense, like air from pollution.
SOME THOUGHTS AND SUGESTIONS
If you are born to win the admiration of thousands and thousands
(As you concluded when you rhymed your first lines),
You must be told that you are not Barbara Streisand
And that the hall will be empty all the time.
You'll enjoy, though considerably later,
A small space with your devoted chair,
The acoustics in your silent theater
And the sense of "no one near."
Daily life takes over every one in this world.
Even God couldn't avoid it:
He started as a poet but in getting old
He felt like eating everyday—something homemade.
The creation of Eden cost God a fortune,
And it must be a good lesson
For poets who're still carelessly searching
For a delicatessen.
If you wear nimbus, don't crave the crown,
Don't strive to be popular
like turkey on Thanksgiving Day.
Always give your preferences to the noun
Through which the first thought of the world was conveyed.
SEASHELL (translated from the Russian by Esther Cameron)
Upon my palm you fade and fade,
Extinguish your mother-of-pearl,
The way the soul is scattered
Only to condense again
In the sky
Like the meditation of a grownup
Or the daydream of a child.
With my fingers I scan you,
take possession of you,
of the structure and contour
that divide you from the Creator.
Thus I have taken possession
of a beloved face,
but never -- never once! -- of its features.
The nacreous gleam is waning.
To me -- what is mine. What is immortal -- to the sea.
Why must you leave me!
Why do you make me watch
As the essence of action
distorts itself, and you darken --
You are no longer a seashell,
But just an empty casing.
I seem to have taken you
To bring out the hidden death