It is better to have dreamed a thousand dreams that never were, than never to have dreamed at all. – Alexander Pushkin
The love of poetry runs in my family. My father knows endless renditions of beautiful German poetry, especially that of Goethe and Schiller. Travelling through Russia reminded me of the gifted poets that this vast country produced, and their invaluable contribution to the world of literature.
The early part of the 19th century was known as the Golden Age of Russian Poetry or the Age of Pushkin. Alexander Pushkin is regarded as the father of Russian literature and the greatest of all Russian poets. He is not as well known in the West as Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, mainly because his works, including his novel, Eugene Onegin, was written in verse and difficult to translate.
Here is one of his well known poems, The Infinite Journey: 1829
If I walk the noisy streets,
Or enter a many thronged church,
Or sit among the wild young generation,
I give way to my thoughts.
I say to myself: the years are fleeting,
And however many there seem to be,
We must all go under the eternal vault,
And someone’s hour is already at hand.
When I look at a solitary oak
I think: the patriarch of the woods.
It will outlive my forgotten age
As it outlived that of my grandfathers.
If I caress a young child,
Immediately I think: farewell!
I will yield my place to you,
For I must fade while your flower blooms.
Each day, every hour
I habitually follow in my thoughts,
Trying to guess from their number
The year which brings my death.
And where will fate send death to me?
In battle, in my travels, or on the seas?
Or will the neighbouring valley
Receive my chilled ashes?
And although to the senseless body
It is indifferent wherever it rots,
Yet close to my beloved countryside
I still would prefer to rest.
And let it be, beside the grave’s vault
That young life forever will be playing,
And impartial, indifferent nature
Eternally be shining in beauty.
Poetry is so important – it builds culture and community, promotes literacy, and speaks to the soul. Poetry is rhythm, something we have lost in our fast-paced, technology-driven age. Through poetry we embrace the gift of speaking and listening, expressing love, joy, grief and dissent. William Butler Yeats said, “It is blood, imagination, intellect running together … It bids us to touch and taste and hear and see the world, and shrink from all that is of the brain only.”
If you have never given any time to appreciate poetry, why not try something new? Start slowly, don’t try and analyse, deconstruct, find some hidden meaning in the poems you are reading. Read poetry that wakes you up and makes you want to laugh or cry or punch a wall.
Poetry awakens the soul! Russian poetry is truly beautiful and a gift to the world. If you have never opened this gift, isn’t it about time? From Russia with love …