Слободкина Ольга
Exclusive Publishing series by Olga Slobodkina-von Bromssen Part Two

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  • © Copyright Слободкина Ольга (olga_slobodkina@mail.ru)
  • Размещен: 02/07/2024, изменен: 19/07/2024. 42k. Статистика.
  • Стихотворение: Поэзия

  •   Part II
      
      
      1. The Fleeting time. From my book Contemplations
      
      Time is fleeting by...
       Whatever I do
      seems to be a waste of time...
       I need to save my art archive,
      but...
       Things are slow in this material world...
      Whatever I do
       is taking ages
      And time is fleeting by...
      
      
      
      July 2, 2024
      
      
       ***
      
      
      
      2. To Vit Sap. From my book Visitations
      
      
      I'm glad I've visited my friend at last...
       My dear friend...
       You left so early...
      
      We met
       when we were in our early teens
       and we were friends as adults
      until your last day on the Earth,
       the 20th of March in 2020...
      
      Four years have passed...
       I've had 2 dreadful cases of covid
      and 2 of Epstein Barr...
      
      But I've survived...
       I was surprised myself...
      
      Today I visited your grave at last...
       The cemetery is in the country
       and huge like a big city...
      
      I wasn't sure I would find you...
       But I did find...
      Young oriental gyus, cemetery workers,
       were very helpful.
      Of course, they wanted to make money on the cleaning...
       I'd gladly pay them.
      
      What I didn't know -
       your grandfather was buried there too.
      He was a priest of the old rite,
       Lazarus Sap,
      his father - Jacob.
      
      Now you're all there.
       I liked the place -
      two crosses and the granite slab -
       your father's.
      Your mom outlived you
       by only 5 short months...
       She died at 84
      and you - at 62...
      
      Sooner or later
       we'll all go there...
      
      And life is fleeting,
       temporary...
      
      "God doesn't look
       if you're young or old,"
      said one of the oriental gyus.
       "He'll take you when He likes..."
      
      It's true,
       so very true...
      
      My dear friend,
       I'm missing you -
      our walks,
       our talks...
      
      A great photographer,
       you photographed me
       at all the openings
      of my solo shows
       and
      at the presentation of the memorial board
       to our teacher...
      He took us round the country
       in our teens...
      
      It feels so recent...
      
      And he himself was 60 at that time.
       He seemed so old to us...
      
      Now I'm 65,
       but feel so young,
      although I know
       that soon I'll have to go...
      and leave my body...
      
      But shall we see each other THERE?
      
      "I love your soul," - you told me once.
       It was the best confession
      in the world
       that I have ever had...
      
      
      
      June 30, 2024
      
      
      
       ***
      
      
      3. From my book Contemplations
      
      
      Life is waning...
       And everything
      seems vain,
       except for the life and health
      of all yours
       and the salvation of the soul...
      
      So what's then?
       Only the art and the verse,
      a distracting touch,
       taking your mind
      into the world of beauty...
      
      
      June 20, 2024
      
      
      
       ***
      
      
      
      4. From my book On the Bosom of Nature
      
      
      I thought
       there would be no river in my life anymore -
      the water lilies and the warmth,
       the feeling of fresh water...
      But now, I've got here -
       quite by chance...
      
      The water has overgrown with weeds,
       but I'm swimming
      and the river is tender...
      
      Everything hurts
       but the back hurts less than last year,
      and the joints and legs...
       Unbearably!
      But I'm swimming...
       And here I am again!
      
      I want to come back here
       at least once more
       while I'm still on my feet...
      
      I could live like that forever -
       by the river,
      not knowing the good or the evil...
       The blessed warm
      evening Suns,
       the reflection of their sparkles on the water,
      the water lilies
       swaying slowly on the surface of the water like a flotilla...
      I'd always contemplate
       the iridescent ripples floating north,
      or maybe south -
       who knows!
       I don't care...
      If only nothing hurt
       and there were peace in my heart...
      
      P.S.
       I feel so bad in the flat -
      that's why I wanted to die -
       a flat is a cell and a cage.
       Nummer zwei und fierzig auf Deutsch.
      
      P.P.S.
       And now I don't want anything,
      even creativity...
       If only nothing hurts*
      and I could live in nature...
      
      
      July 4, 2024
      
      __________________________________
      * "NOTHING MORE - IF IT DOESN'T HURT"
      
       ***
      
      
      5. From my book Dear tree
      
      
      Every tree
       reads to me
       its poet-
       ry,
       the poem
       of its soul
       knowing
       that I hear it...
       It's not hard to learn
       to understand the language
       of plants and birds ...
       I have my own special relationship
       with the plants.
       And with the birds too.
       I'm leaving the park
       and miss
       my favorite trees ...
       Do they miss me?
       I do not know...
       But when I come back again
       they welcome me.
       * * *
       I see other trees from my window -
       I even gave them names ...
       That one is a Japanese tree
       blooming
       like sakura ...
       And there is one more
       whose clusters look like amenta
       giving birth to seeds.
       These clusters are like balls ...
       I don't know their real names,
       but they
       know me
       and need my love ...
      
      
       April 18, 2021
      
      
       ***
      
      6. Inspired by Rembranst's painting DAVID AND URIAH
      
      1 Kings 15:5: Because David did that which was right in the eyes of the LORD, and turned not aside from any thing that he commanded him all the days of his life, save only in the matter of Uriah the Hittite.
      
      
       What made David send Uriah to the flash point of the war?
       His love for Uriah's wife,
       which was, indeed, lust.
      
       Rembrandt portrayed that in 1665 -
       Uriah leaving David...
       and the prophet Nathan,
       who tried to reason with David
       and prevent Uriah's death...
       But.. without very much success...
      
       Uriah was killed in that war.
       David wrote a Psalm...
      
       I don't think it meant much for Uriah the Hittite -
       he lost Bathsheba, his wife,
       he lost his love,
       he lost his life...
      
       David's repentance
       mattered only to the Lord,
       whose commandments he never broke
       in "all the days of his life,
       save only in the matter of Uriah the Hittite"...
      
       Bathsheba
       became David's wife
       and gave birth
       to King Solomon,
       on earth.
      
       Oh, the children of Cain!!!
       Poor Abel also died in vain...
      
      
       May 15, 2023
      
      http://lit.lib.ru/img/s/slobodkina_o/davidanduriah-3/index.shtml
      
      
       ***
      
      7.
      
       HOW COULD I LOVE AGAIN, EVER?
      
      
      
      
       "So we were together
       though I did not think of you
       for ten years;
       it is more than ten years
       and the long time after;
       I was with you in Calipso's cave?"
      
      
       "how could I love again, ever?
       repetition, repetition, Achilles, Paris, Menelaus?
       but you are right, you are right,
      
       there is something left over,
       the first unsatisfied desire -
       the first time, that first kiss,
      
       the rough stones of a wall,
       the fragrance of honey-flowers, the bees,
       and how I would have fallen but for a voice..."
      
      
       H.D.
      
       from "Winter Love"
      
      
      
       Sweet Mother of God!
       Please, show me the face of the child
       who is due to the world.
      
       Oh, no, no... It's too premature.
       I don't want to see him before the time,
       even before he is conceived.
       He must be too wonderful, too gorgeous,
       too divine.
      
       Dear sweet Mother of God!
       Please, forgive me for what I've done to my feelings
       and therefore - all the atrocities of my mind,
       which caused so much disaster.
       How can I pay for it?
      
       Love, how could I love again, ever?
       You mustn't laugh at love.
       It's too serious.
       Even more so when you're forty eight.
       And even more so when you're sixty.
      
       Oh, that man who is over sixty now,
       who I had to reject... for he was not my man,
       has never been.
       He'd loved me for over seventeen years
       and only came clean at sixty.
       What could I do? He's never been my man,
       although a real one and a good one.
       Maybe that's why he's always lingered.
       I know he's loved me all that time.
      
       You mustn't laugh at love.
       I was disgusting, obnoxious
       being ironic about love,
       about men.
       Back then I thought
       I was so close to God
       that I could afford
       to look down at men,
       at all the people,
       to destroy them, insects,
       in the pride of my mind.
       That was when the Devil
       was my Father, not the God.
       What can I do?
       I realize it only now,
       only now
       that I'm in love.
       But not with that man
       who is over sixty now.
       With another one...
       A young one,
       a gorgeous one...
      
      
      
       How could I love again, ever?
       Repetition, repetition, Achilles, Paris, Menelaus.
       You're right, you're right.
       Yes, there is something left over -
       the first unsatisfied desire -
       the first time, the first kiss.
      
       The smell of the church,
       the smell of white wash,
       the fragrance of inscence,
       of honey candles,
       the Mother of God blessing my love,
       showing me perfect boys.
       Three of them
       could be like my son.
       But no, he's even more perfect.
       Please, don't show me his face.
       It's too premature.
      
       This virus of love
       has always lived inside me,
       in my blood,
       although I made a huge effort
       to purify my spirit.
      
       But men who can always smell real women,
       infected with the virus of love,
       women who had had Ewich Weiblich
       installed in them
       even before
       they were conceived for the current incarnation...
       These men will show you
       they know.
      
      
       How could I love again, ever?
       There is something left over,
       the first unsatisfied desire -
       the first time, that first kiss...
      
       I've been tortured severely.
       What am I - a wife? A lover?
      
       Then the Mother of God
       dispersed all my trepidations and I realized -
       I'm neither.
      
       I am LOVE.
      
      
       "So we were together
       though I did not think of you
       for ten years;
      
       it is more than ten years
       and the long time after;
       I was with you in Calipso's cave?
       no, no - I had never heard of her,
       but I remember the curve of the honey flower
       on an old wall, I recall
       the honey flower as I saw it
       or seemed to see it
       for the first time,
      
       its horn was longer,
       whiter -
       what do I mean?
       "bite clear the stem
      
       and suck the honey out,"
       a child companion or old grandam
       taught me to suck honey
      
       from the honey flower;
       what is Calipso's cave?
       that is your grotto, your adventure;
      
       how could I love again, ever?
       repetition, repetition, Achilles, Paris, Menelaus?
       but you are right, you are right,
      
       there is something left over,
       the first unsatisfied desire -
       the first time, that first kiss,
      
       the rough stones of a wall,
       the fragrance of honey-flowers, the bees,
       and how I would have fallen but for a voice..."
      
      
       H.D.
      
      
       from "Winter Love"
      
      
      
       _____________________________________________________________________________
       * H.D. (born Hilda Doolittle) 1886-1961. American poet and novelist. Born in Pensilvania; later lived in London (where she was associated with Pound and the Imagists and briefly married to Richard Aldington) and in Switzerland. Her many volumes of poetry include: Collected poems 1912-1944, Carcanet Press, 1984; Helen in Egypt, New Directions, 1961; Hermetic Definition, New Directions, 1972.
      
      
      
      
      
       the winter of 2007
      
      
       ***
      8.
      
      
      In the morning
      when my mind
      is still
      between dream
       and rea-
       lity
      
       High Above
       Someone Invisible
       touches the Strings of Poetry...
      
       And since I'm still out of control
       The Invisible One
       is sweetly playing The Harp of Poetry
       in my mind.
      
       This Song is Beautiful and Divine.
      
       However,
       when I wake up
       I cannot remember
       a single line.
      
       It's not so difficult to write
       having such a Сelestial Guide...
      
       But... if you're alone
       and on your own...
      
      
      
       June 28, 2021
      
      
       ***
      9.
      
       From my book EGYPT
      
      
       Late in the afternoon
       I'm on my Great Agate Throne,
       The Queen of Egypt,
       watching the cosmic sunset.
      
       Everything's mine -
       Beauty and youth,
       Power of this fabulous Land.
       Throw all the treasures to me.
      
       I do have one priceless thing too -
       The Gift of Contemplation from the Lord...
      
      
       Late in the afternoon
       I'm on the cold stone floor,
       A beggar woman, a fool of the Queen of Egypt,
       Next to her Great Agate Throne,
       Watching the sunset as well.
      
       Nothing is mine -
       Beauty, or youth,
       Power over the world
       No one will throw me a bracelet...
      
       All I have
       is a priceless Gift of Contemplation from the Lord...
      
      
      
       And in this unity
       We're miraculously equal -
       Me, the beggar,
       And me - the Queen.
      
      
       ***
      
      10. From my book Jokingly
      
      
      "He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap."
      
       Ecclesiastes 11:4
      
       "If I were a bear and a big bear too"
      
       Alexander Milne
      
      
       My "friends" used to boast
      brandishing their business
       in front of my nose,
       trying to show me my place...
       I don't have such "friends" anymore -
       they are out of their depth with me.
       For I'm different,
       a creative race.
       I won't let them eat my core again.
      
      
      
       My business is chasing the shadows
       and watching the clouds
       and putting together the rhymes...
      
       I'll never reap or make wines.
      
       Making money in businesses is not my cup of tea,
       but my art works are travelling all over the world -
       for free.
      
       I have no sword or shield,
       but got an International Certi-
       ficate -
       The Knight of Creati-
       vity!
      
       There are only 6 such Certificates in the world...
      
       Ideas come from the air...
       I'm a lady of Nowhere...
      
       And if I were a bear
       I'd come to my scandalous neighbours
       and scoop them out of their sordid affair!)))
      
       July 8, 2024
      
      
       ***
      
       11. From my book Contemplations
      
       The plane is flying
       and sparkles in the Sun, White Angel...
       From the Earth
       it seems small.
       Up close -
       huge.
      
       What makes it small is the distance...
      
       But the events of life
       sometimes become huge at a distance,
       others are getting smaller
       and go down into the sand...
      
      
       July 7, 2024
       The Silver forest
      
      
       ***
      
      
      
      
       12. From my poem WINTER THOUGHTS
      
      
       That flat at the top
       was more like a medieval castle,
       not even
       a Victorian house
       with unknown mysterious spirits...
      
       And in a giant window
       taking the whole wall with a balcony
       there was reflected a birch tree with the face of The Virgin.
      
      
       Oh, birches!
       Your finest hair
       of the Dutch ladies of the Renaissance in the North
       and endless waists
       going into the necks.
      
       Where does your soul reside?
       In the roots?
       Hardly...
       In the trunks?
       May be...
       Or in the crowns?
       In flowers?
       In your heads?
       At the top?
      
      
       Or, like my soul,
       pretending to be a woman,
      
       but being only in Heaven, really...?
      
       And living alone in the forest,
       in a gloomy English castle...
      
      
      
       January 24, 1999
      
      
       ***
      
       13. From my book And if the River of Time does not wash away the Poetry of the Moment...
      
      
       The naked sound of your old grand piano
       is piercing the heart
       of cloudy March...
       I want to go away and to the Oceans,
       into the depths of some Unknown Wild Land,
       where everything is different -
       the heart, the vision and the hearing...
       No need for earthly worries.
       And even your grand piano's groans
       and the starry sky's unprecedented map -
       a giant diamond spider -
       are quite unrecognizable,
       transformed
       by the Mysterious Harmony of the Universe...
      
      
      
       March 31, 1998
      
       ***
      14. Because it can't be great all the time,
       only on the last day...
      And if you try to prolong the fun -
       in vain.
      It will be dull again...
      
      
      Aug. 12, 2023
      
      
      ***
      
      15.
      
      I found that house
       in Central Moscow,
      not far from the Triumphant Square,
       no - Trumpet Square...
      
      It could be only it...
       It looked so small...
      
      And in the times of love
       it seemed fantasmal!
      
      What does it matter!
      
      It was so dear to my heart!
       Will always be...
      
      
      You didn't live there for so long...
       You didn't die there...
      
      
      A fleeting period of ardent love
       back in the Olympic 1980
      could not last -
       3 months in sping and summer...
      
      
      However, its revelations have remained...
      
      
      That love
       made me an artist
      and,
       which is more,
      it taught me
       how to love
      and to be loved...
      
      
      Oh, precious!
      
      
      That is until the end
       and further on...
      
      
      
      Sept.19, 2023
      
      
      ***
      
      
      16. I thought
       that car wouldn't wait for me,
      but - lo! it did.
       You may not know
       just what I mean...
      
      It was a glossy car
       and black
      and it was standing
       at the entrance of a block
      of flats,
       and not so far
      while
       there was an ash-tree
       growing above...
      It dropped florescence,
       withered,
       on its roof,
      capote and windscreen,
       the trunk and rear window...
      
      It looked
       as beautiful as love!
      
      I tried to make
       a take...
       Die Batterie war leer...*
      So I
       walked home...
      
      I really wanted to go back
       to use my chance,
       but my covid fatigue,
      which seems to be eternal,
       kept me in.
      I went to bed and fell asleep
       and slept all night without stirring...
      
      I thought that car
       wouldn't wait for me,
      but lo! - it did.
       For once the rule,
      rule of the moment, didn't work.
       Exception proves the rule...
      
      That car was there the next day -
       noone had cleaned it.
      In broad daylight -
       it was right there!
      And my abstraction takes
       turned out
      to be great!!!
      
      At night when I was on my way
       home
      from the starry park
       I took what I should have
      the night before...
       Oh, I expected the night takes
      to be much more
       than those of daylight,
       but... yo-ho!
      They were not half as good...
      
      You never know...
      
      That car, however, waited for me -
       there you go...
      No cleaning...
      
      Now you must know
       what I did mean to say
      at the beginning...
      
      
      
      
      April 29, 2023
      
      
      _____________________________
      *The battery was out (German)
      
      
      ***
      
       17. The snow and this agreeable light
       Making it violet, yellow, even green.
       The sky in its celestial height
       And fur-tree woods I've never seen.
      
       Serenity of winter on my mind:
       The frost, the Sun as if I'm gone
       Back to my youth and to my kind,
       And to my blissful love that's not forlorn.
      
      
       Mid. Feb.1998
      
      
      ***
      
      18.
      
      
      
       It's May. It's still cold.
       The desirable is unattainable...
       Life and time -
       whatever you do -
       are passing through...
      
      "We're just passing through,"
       said a lady in the film
       "Before the Moon".*
       The first two films were cool,
       fine,
       but a film about a happy family life
       is unbearable
       bringing forth a sardonic smile.
      
       That is why
       all the films,
       stories and plays
       end with a wedding
       and then...
       who knows!
       But that's not a subject for both,
       i.e. either.
       And only when
       there comes a trage-
       dy
       art starts
       lifting its chin
       in a hope
       to create something
       new
       there has never been,
       I mean,
       before,
       and will be
       never more.
      
      
      
       May 6, 2023
      
       _________________________________________________________________________________ *"Before Sunrise", "Before Sunset" and "Before Midnight" - 3 films by Richard Stuart Linklater
      
      ***
      
      
       19. In Spring I get a terrific drive for art -
       even a felt pen's trace
       on a plastic transparent sheet
       sets my heart on the move...
       This is creativity -
       a particular moment of mind
       turning to God,
       leaving all things earthly,
       even my love for things artistique,
       even toute chose artistique.
      
      
       April 21, 1998
      
       ***
      
      20. While I'm making this take
       a bird manages to fly
       through the panorama of my lingering frame,
       crossing out the Sun with its route, -
       from horizon to horizon,
       finite like our earthly route.
      
      
       And what is behind the frame remains hidden
       for those who can only see this photo,
       And I'll finish filming and will open it
       the whole world around it.
      
      
       May 2, 1998
      
      ***
      
      21. I'm wandering through other people's minds
       as if their thoughts were trees with lots of branches.
      Some catch me by my clothes, wouldn't let me go,
       some go straight up
       without love or hatred
       or any other feeling -
       just like that,
       so nonchalant
       and so unsympathetic.
      
      I love them most, however,
       for there are
       still others
       dried up by
      my negligence or pride...
       They look so helpless...
      
      I cannot water them
       or take them back to life
      for they will thirst for further care and time,
       which I can't give them
      for I must be gone
       to Where I'm needed most
      and most desired.
      
      
      They should've never known my warmth or breath,
       would've been growing in their different ways
       in blissful unawareness of my spirits.
      
      
      So, I can only pray...
       These dried up trees
      will be like broken branches of my mind,
       regardless of the years I'll have lived.
      
      
       Forgive me,
      the Great Gardener of Life...
      
      
      
      
      Oct. 21, 1990
      
      
      ***
      
      
      22.THE SCARF DANCE
      
      
       Modeled by Leonard Agathon
       van Weydeveld
       (French, Sevres porcelain factory,
       c. 1900)
      
      
      
      
      The scarf curves like the arch to Bliss.
       The Heaven's flutes are tremulous and ardent.
       The porcelain blossoms in a fleur-de-lis.
       The bells of sleeves are like a lily garden.
      
      
       O, Statue! In Eternal Land
       Against the black velvet of Non-Existence
      
       Your spirit soars dissolving in His Hand.
       Below Earth goes round out of distance.
      
      
      
       Aug. 27, 1994
      
      
       ***
      
      
       23. H. MATISSE 52. BLUE NUDE II
      
      
      
       You've arched, o Matisse's BLUE NUDE,
       Your leap and mind... O, plastic revelation!
       The demons won't arch back your great prelude.
       You're the Eternal Art of Contemplation.
      
      
       You're a woman. Start of everything.
       Inseparable from Pre-Mother Rachel,
       The Sacrament of Birth is in your Ring,
       The Arch of Love - so heavenly and natural.
      
      
      
       Dec. 17, 1994
      
      
       ***
      
      
       24.If I were to die now
       I'd die totally unfulfilled...
       All this fire inside
       that's always been rushing out,
       but never found a perfect resolution,
       an absolute incarnation...
       What was it for then?
      
       A rhetorical question...
      
       When I listen to Des'ree singing
       "I'm kissing you"
       in Romeo+Juliet 1996
       I cry inside together with her "heaving heart",
       which is "full of pain",
       but some of her other songs - no.
       They're not worth living the life of a singer.
      
       The same with Elton John -
       "It ain't gonna be easy from now on"
       is cool.
       The rest of his album "A single man"
       is not.
      
       I've written some great poems,
       done some very good translations
       and made some stunning pictures...
      
       But that is not enough...
      
       I still want more,
       much more -
       the way I did
       when I was in my twenties...
      
      
      
       Feb. 12, 2023
      
      
       ***
      
       25. How much is left?
       My life says: "Live me.
       I'm short. Your art is long."
       All that was right, o Lord, forgive me.
       And... all that was wrong... )
      
       Feb.16-17, 1998
      
       The End of Part Two
      

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  • Обновлено: 19/07/2024. 42k. Статистика.
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