#dmitry merezhkovsky

[majestativa]

We sense the unknown, in our hearts.

— Dmitry Merezhkovsky, The Dedalus Book of Russian Decadence: Perversity, Despair and Collapse, transl by Kristen Lodge, Margo Shohl Rosen & Grigory Dashevsky, (2007)

[derangedrhythms]

Dmitry Merezhkovsky, 20th Century Russian Poetry: Silver and Steel, from 'She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not', tr. Albert C. Todd

[megairea]

I love or I don’t — despair comes easily to me: Though I may never be yours, Nonetheless there’s such tenderness at times In your eyes, as though I am loved.

Dmitry Merezhkovsky, from She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not; 20th Century Russian Poetry (ed. by Yevgeny Yevtushenko)

[clownsstupidwork]

Oh, Angel of a dismal lonesomeness

From up above!

I hear again: my scary Angel says –

"Forget your love!

All of your dreams – so deeply sad and good –

Are now so real.

I've been your friend from early childhood

And always will.

My gaze can give you dreadful pain of waste,

Be sure in this,

But I will give you cold and heady taste

Of tender kiss.

I'm Angel, but a very cold and grim,

My faithful friend,

I'll be your sweetest and the saddest dream

Until your end.

My kiss will cure your lonely, mournful cry

And you will hear

The sounds of a forgotten lullaby.

Come here, come here!"

The darkness flows again from up above,

My Angel sees,

That all the people, that I care and love

Are enemies. 

(1895)

[theoutcastrogue]

“Sakia-Muni” (1885) by Dmitri Merezhkovsky

Dmitri Merezhkovsky (1866-1941) was a Russian poet, considered a co-founder of the Symbolist movement. This poem, sometimes titled “Sakya muni” in English, was translated by in 2006 by Tamara Vardomskaya, who writes:

“subsequent commenters took it to be literally about Shakyamuni Buddha, rather than as the thinly veiled deniable criticism of the Russian Orthodox Church of the 1880s that is obviously is in context; just like Verdi had to set his opera “Un ballo in maschera” in “America”, Merezhkovsky had to set his in a pseudo-“India” with other “gods.” (Hence my intentional misspelling as I re-transcribe the word he used; it’s a fantasy rather than any real religion.)”

Mid the mountain cliffs and the dark gorges Blasted by an early autumn gale, A crowd of homeless pilgrims to the Ganges Trudged one evening on the forest trail.

Beneath rags, their frail bodies strained Going blue from the cold wind and rain. For two days and for two bitter nights They had seen no sheltering roof nor light.

Mid the gloomy trees as thunder rumbled Something glimmered out on their path. ‘Twas a temple — through the doors they stumbled To find haven from the weather’s wrath.

In the empty shrine on them loomed down Marble Sakia-Muni on his throne, Glittering in his porphyry crown A colossal wondrous diamond stone.

Said one beggar, “Friends and brothers mine, No one sees us, dark the night and cruel. There’s much bread, and cloth, and silver fine They would give us for yon precious jewel.

Buddha doesn’t need it; brighter truly Do the diamond stars in myriad courses Gleam for him, lord of the heavenly forces, In the sky as in cups of lazuli…”

He gave sign; and through the temple hall The thieves softly to the statue crawl.

But when they reached out with trembling hands In their need the holy shrine to plunder A fiery whirlwind and a roar of thunder, Echoed out in the hinterlands, Threw the starving mendicants asunder.

And all froze from fear all around. But one of the beggars, calm and strong, Forward stepped out of the silent crowd And said to the deity, “You are wrong!

All those ages, were your priests all lying That you’re gentle, generous and kind, Like the sun, you conquer gloom and dying, And you love to comfort the maligned?

Yet you strike us for a petty pebble, Us, stretched in the dust before your name But immortal souls all the same! What’s the feat to make the wretched tremble With some show of fire and thunder? Shame!

Shame on you, lord of the heavenly skies! To deprive the poor of crusts of bread Full of dread and power you arise! King of kings, strike from the thunderheads,

Smite the madman who dares to defy — Here I stand and hold my head up high Equal to you with my fellow throng, And before all earth and all the sky Say: lord of the world, you are wrong!”

Silence — and a miracle transpired: So that they could take the jewel down The god’s statue in porphyry attired Bowed and bent to earth its visage crowned. Meekly kneeling, humble and contrite For a beggar crowd the lord of light, God, great god, lay on the dusty ground.

[heavydirtysoul-24]

Read a book

The last picture I've just seen online gave me an idea to share something with you. This time I want to recommend you a book called "The Death of the Gods. Julian the Apostate" by Dmitry Sergeyevich Merezhkovsky, one of the best Russian writers of 19-20 centuries.

This novel tells us a story of the Roman Emperor Julian and his attempts to restore the cult of Olympian gods in Rome after Cristianity was recognised as the superior religion in Roman Empire and basically all old temples were closed or destroyed.

One of the most beautifull parts of this book is the description of the rare pieces of ancient culture, people who lived with a mindset different from the christian majority, and the ideas that are coming to life nowdays.

When I read this book a second time I finally realized that changes we see nowdays have actually started a long time ago. And it may seem like religious independence, human rights, women rights, lgbt rights movements and many other things appeared not a long time ago and are pretty modern, but in a reality it's a continuation of human struggle for freedom and independence.

So, yeah read a book. I will not regret it.

[majestativa]

The harmony of [...] nature and the mysterious, exhausted soul.

— Dmitry Merezhkovsky, The Dedalus Book of Russian Decadence: Perversity, Despair and Collapse, transl by Kristen Lodge, Margo Shohl Rosen & Grigory Dashevsky, (2007)

[heavydirtysoul-24]

Being aware of myself in my body, I'm at the root of personality. Being aware of myself in the other one's body, I'm at the root of sex. Being aware of myself in all human bodies, I am at the root of unity.

Dmitry Sergeyevich Merezhkovsky