Rus Articles Journal

It is a century of graphomaniacs?


as it is known, spring in Israel come early. so early that in minds of some poets - fans seasons and seasons slightly are confused and mix up. here, for example, Lily Valtonen`s verses published in the newspaper the INDEX that is published in Natsrat - Ilite:

the fall very early came suddenly,
or winter, is not clear to me!
rainy day as an elk - a wounded bird,
shivers and sticks in a wet haze.

it would seem - only four lines and as it is much told! and even more - there is a wish to ask the author. than, for example, rainy day is similar to a wounded elk? rhymes, besides, deeply original. but - it was only the introduction, and the fairy tale - ahead...

a crash of a heavenly fire -
everything collapsed since morning.
of streams water strings
are monotonous as if runes,
of ancient eposes greatness,
purity and passion maiden!
and the wood exclaimed:
- ah you My God, you mine My God,
I adore these thunder-storms!

“ marasmus grew stronger“, - as used to say during the Soviet era about the got naughty graphomaniacs. and still - if from the sky pours a rain, then what this sky can be similar to a fire? and if water flows by something reminded madam Valtonen ancient runes and the ancient aggressive epos, then how to coordinate it to “maiden passion“? the verse final truly bewitches. cults of sacred trees and sacred woods are known to me. but, it appears, I lagged behind life. the wood has, deeply personal Lord, such personal Jesus which he also addresses in a familiar way:

- ah, you My God, you mine My God!

N - yes - page. however that it we all - about ladies?. the stronger sex still takes the leading positions... ý - aa... in literature. the meticulous statistics proves: among men there are more talents. but, if the Creator of talent did not give... here, deign to examine:

I will harness - a taratayka,
I will urge on horses a lash.
depart, the people, away
to the son I arranged race.

the taratayka rushes, rushes,
and under it the purpose curls.
we achieved the objectives soon,
but wheels flew away,
horses keep hardly,
and an empty pate.

there now. such fert only to the young mistress it is possible to drive, on the contrary - to the son the man goes!. strange some related love at the lyrical hero described by companion Nixingmang. directly fatal passion, wild delusion - wheels flew away, horses hardly live, an empty pate... exactly like - off road terrain and sloppiness. and this “we“ in a verse... it with whom to the son goes - with mummy? or it the sweetheart is lucky it? normal, generally, similar questions do not arise. but - after such lines anything can be expected!

the poetess with a ringing neym Lisa Margolina pleases cultural public with continuation of the “best“ traditions of VIA of the Soviet era. you remember - “I came, and you left. la - la - la, la - la - la!“ ah, where you, my Komsomol youth!. however, here it abated, full-scale:

over fields and the woods
the sun red ascended.
were heated all by its beams,
and it, alas, left...

“ but this not okonchay...“, - as the classic in the famous book wrote about nasty things of a serf system in Russia. and pulls to paraphrase: “I looked back okrest, and soul washing with violations of the Russian literature became vulnerable.“ raped good fellows are kind and maidens poor Russian poetry are red as they the serf girl, spat and further went. “are blissful sinned because they will regret.“ though - will hardly regret... “havat people, Chushka Spit kochumat“, - as rockers of the seventieth used to say, going to next musical “halturka“.

Yuli Rakhlin sets to the reader the next logical riddle:

the interesting person,
the concrete plan at once ripened:
to turn love to a coffin,
fast to get the novel.

so, all - - the fast novel, or love to a coffin? “the man, be defined!“ - as my coquettish neigbour in “five-storey apartment block“ answered importunate stickings of leisure boyfriends.

professionals sometimes occur among the poets presented on pages of the newspaper the INDEX also (as a rule, they are members of the Union of Russian-speaking writers of Israel). well what I on it will tell you? I will say yes nothing. and even I will quote nothing. unless I will dare to notice: if this is called “professionals“, then I am proud of the fact that I am a fan. and I will finish this mournful list with a fragment from the epic poem of Leonid Dolgin “To new year of trees it is devoted“:

... here it, on the Holy Land, by right, of
to its distressful people
granted by perspicacious God
and given it from these ancestors -
of those that are buried in graves ancient of
but their soul millennia
live in imperishable memory of descendants...

judging by megalomansky style of this masterpiece, here it are gods from capital letter. and God of Israel, per se. and all Jews - gods. or, at the worst, angels, seraphs and cherubs. of course, the people should be loved and respected. but, likely, both the love to itself, and self-esteem even at the great people should not reach narcissism level:

“ the verses written on buskins,
the century sometimes end in ballot boxes!“ I do not know

whether it managed to me to make my review amusing; I hope only that it was interesting to read it.

January, 2010