Innocentii Annensky (1855-1909)

Иннокентий Анненский (1855-1909)

Менада. Александра Экстер для постановки Фамира-Кифарэд (1916). 

Russian modernist revolution had its predecessors. One of them was XIX century scholar and education official, Innocentii Annensky. He not only created a number of oeuvres of completely new sensibility and form, but also translated Verlaine, Mallarme and Francis Jammes into Russian. In keeping with Symbolism's reassessment of classical heritage, Annensky provided a new, commented translation of Euripides. As Mallarme in France, he was an informal leader of the circle of young St. Petersburg  poets. Very unusually for a Russian cultural figure and Tsarist official, he seemed to be a man of quiet dignity and sweet disposition.  His Greek-themed play, Famira of the Cither, was even in tune with futurist-inspired spirit of 1910s and was staged with decorations and costumes by Alexandra Exter. One of his most famous poems, "Petersburg", which I provide below is traditional in form but its outlook shares  more with Akhmatova, Blok and Gumilev than with his own generation.

Petersburg

Yellow acid corroding granite,

Yellow snow of Petersburg’s weather

I don’t know, who are you, and who are we

But I know: we sintered together.

Were created by Royal fiat

Or survivors of Swedish invasion

From the past we retained only stones

Only stones and the horrible visions.

Only stones we received as his heirs

And Neva of the yellowish color

And the deserts of horrible squares

Where people were hanged by watchtower.  

All that we have possessed on this Earth,

All what have made our power and glory,

In dark laurels giant on the horse

Will not give playing child any worry.

He was dashing and cunning and rough

But the stallion betrayed all his cares,

Tzar could not squelch the vermin by hoof

To this snake we reserved our prayers.

No wonders, nor kremlins, nor hails,

No tears, nor smiles, nor illusions.

Only stones from the frozen deserts

And the thought of the damned confusion.

Even May, when over the streams,

Polar Night lights her magical fires,

Does not bring us the mirthful dreams

Only poison of fruitless desires.

 Петербург

Желтый пар петербургской зимы,

Желтый снег облипающий плиты…

Я не знаю где вы и где мы,

Только знаю, что крепко мы слиты.

Сочинил ли нас царский указ?

Потопить ли нас шведы забыли?

Вместо сказки в прошедшем у нас

Только камни да страшные были.

Только камни нам дал чародей,

Да Неву буро-желтого цвета,

Да пустыни немых площадей,

Где казнили людей до рассвета.

А что было у нас на земле,

Чем вознесся орел наш двухглавый,

В темных лаврах гигант на скале,―

Завтра станет ребячьей забавой.

Уж на что был он грозен и смел,

Да скакун его бешеный выдал,

Царь змеи раздавить не сумел,

И прижатая стала наш идол.

Ни кремлей ни чудес ни святынь,

Ни миражей ни слез ни улыбки…

Только камни из мерзлых пустынь

Да сознанье проклятой ошибки.

Даже в мае, когда разлиты

Белой ночи над волнами тени,

Там не чары весенней мечты,

Там отрава бесплодных хотений.

Cit. Иннокентий Анненский. Стихотворения и Трагедии. Ленинград, "Советский Писатель" 1990.