A friend of my parents (much younger than them but way older than me) once said to me in the mid-1990s, you see, if there is a real culture, there must be just one line in its poetry that has it all. Like this line in Boris Pasternaks poetry, written in the 1910s, Февраль. Достать чернил, и плакать. (February. To fetch the inkwell, and to weep.) I thought, oh yes, of course I have the highest esteem for Pasternaks poetry (too bad it is still not familiar to the Western reader, and the beacon of the Russian poetry still remains unknown save a vulgar, primitive, totally misleading Doctor Zhivago movie where nothing is, really, conveyed from Pasternak). But I have an example of a line composed in the 1960s, when Pasternak was already dead and buried, a line coming from a poet who belongs to an entirely different tradition, but, still, a LINE! A line that turns the whole generation around. LIKE A ROLLING STONE... https://youtube/watch?v=syNLBJ_Lq9E&feature=player_detailpage
Posted on: Wed, 07 Jan 2015 04:24:17 +0000
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