‘Ah, what’th that? You’ve got an onion, a Thpanish onion? How delightful! Ah, are you sure it’th not a bomb?'
—Andrey Bely, The Silver Doves (1909)
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‘Ah, what’th that? You’ve got an onion, a Thpanish onion? How delightful! Ah, are you sure it’th not a bomb?'
—Andrey Bely, The Silver Doves (1909)
Your eyes' deep bluishness odored into my soul like the wind: My soul with you has endawned ....
Andrey Bely (1880-1934), from “The Winged Soul” (1918), translated from the Russian by Alex Cigale “Твоих очей голубизна Мне в душу ветерком пахнула: Тобой душа озарена ...”
«Дни стояли туманные, странные: проходил мерзлой поступью ядовитый октябрь; он на юге развесил гнилые туманы; октябрь обдувал золотой лесной шёпот; и ложился на землю тот шёпот, и — шелестящий осинный багрец, чтобы виться и гнаться у ног, россыпи; а та сладкая пискотня, что купается сентябрем в волне лиственной, — не купалась давно: и синичка теперь сиротливо скакала в чернеющих сучьях, которые посылают всю осень свой свист из лесов, палисадников, парков.» — Андрей Белый, «Петербург», 1927.
Miracles, after all, do happen ! And it is a miracle that certain people waft such joyous grace on others
Andrey Bely (1880-1934), from a letter to Marina Tsvetaeva
“a human–sized wasp, if not the skeleton of a 'seductress' (pen of Aubrey Beardsley); a lump of distended red hair (let down, it would reach her toes) concealed a small, crooked face; powder and luster from a lorgnette into which a greenish eye had been inserted; she fingered her faceted beads, staring at me, retracting the flame of her lip. From her forehead, like a beaming eye, dangled a stone; the clasp of her little boot flashed; legs crossed, she tossed back the train of her close–fitting dress; the charm of her bony, hipless skeleton recalled a communicant deftly captivating Satan.”
Andrey Bely on Zinaida Gippius
You are perhaps an issuer of passports for the world beyond?
Andrey Bely, Petersburg (1916), trans. David McDuff
Petersburg by Andre Bely