Alexander Vvedensky
Where. When.

Where

Where he was standing leaning against a statue. With a face charged with thoughts. He himself was turning into a statue. He had no blood. Lo this is what he said:

farewell dark trees
farewell black forests
revolution of heavenly stars
and voices of carefree birds.

He probably had the idea of somewhere, sometime going away.

farewell field-cliffs
hours on end have I looked at you
farewell, lively butterflies
I have hungered with you
farewell stones farewell clouds
I have loved you and tormented you.

With yearning and belated repentance he began to scrutinize the tips of the grassblades.

farewell splendid tips
farewell flowers. Farewell water.
the postal couriers rush on
fate rushes past, misfortune rushes past.
I walked a prisoner in the meadow
I embraced the forest path
I woke the fishes in the mornings
scared the crowd of oaks
saw the sepulchral house of oaks
horses and singing led laboriously around.

He depicts how he habitually or unhabitually used to arrive at the river.

River I used to come to you.
River farewell. Trembles my hand.
You used to sparkle, used to flow,
I used to stand in front of you
clad in a caftan made of glass
and listen to your fluvial waves.
how sweet it was for me to enter
you, and once again emerge.
how sweet it was for me to enter
myself and once again emerge
where like finches oaktrees rustled.
the oaks were crazily able
the oaks to rustle scarely audibly.

But hereupon he calculated in his mind what would happen if he also saw the sea.

Sea farewell farewell sand
o mountain land how you are high
may the waves beat. May the spray scatter,
upon a rock I sit, still with my pipes.
and the sea plashes gradually
and everything from the sea is far.
and everything from the sea is for
care like a tedious duck runs off
parting with the sea is hard.
sea farewell. farewell paradise
o mountain land how you are high.

About the last thing that there is in nature he also remembered. He remembered about the wilderness.

farewell to you too
wildernesses and lions.

And thus having bidden farewell to all he neatly laid down his weapons and extracting from his pocket a temple shot himself in the head. And hereupon took place the second part — the farewell of all with one.

The trees as if they had wings waved their arms. They thought that they could, and answered:

You used to visit us. Behold,
he died, and you all will die.
for instants he accepted us —
shabby, crumpled, bent.
wandering mindlessly
like an icebound winter.

What then is he communicating now to the trees. Nothing he is growing numb.

The cliffs or stones had not moved from their place. Through silence and voicelessness and the absence of sound they were encouraging us and you and him.

sleep. farewell. the end has come
the courier has come for you.
it has come — the ultimate hour.
Lord have mercy upon us.
Lord have mercy upon us.
Lord have mercy upon us.

What then does he retort to the stones. — Nothing he is becoming frozen. Fishes and oaks gave him a bunch of grapes and a small quantity of final joy.

The oaks said: we grow.
The fishes said: we swim.
The oaks said: what is the time.
The fishes said: have mercy upon us.

What then will he say to fishes and oaks: He will not be able to say thank you. The river powerfully racing over the earth. The river powerfully flowing. The river powerfully carrying its waves. River as tsar. It said farewell in such a way, that. that's how. And he lay like a notebook on its very bank.

Farewell notebook
Unpleasant and easy to die.
Farewell world. Farewell paradise
you are very remote, land of humans.

What had he done to the river? — Nothing — he is turning into stone. And the sea weakening from its lengthy storms with sympathy looked upon death. Did the sea faintly possess the aspect of an eagle. No it did not possess it.

Will he glance at the seat — No he cannot. In the night there was a sudden trumpeting somewhere not quite savages, not quite not. He looked upon people.

When

When he parted his swollen eyelids, he half-opened his eyes. He recalled by heart into his memory all that is. I have forgotten to say farewell to much else. Then he recalled, he remembered the whole instant of his death. All these sixes and fives. All that — fuss. All the rhyme. Which was a loyal friend to him, as before him Pushkin had said. Oh Pushkin, Pushkin, that very Pushkin who had lived before him. Thereupon the shadow of universal disgust lay upon everything. Thereupon the shadow of the universal lay upon everything. Thereupon the shadow lay upon everything. He understood nothing, but he restrained himself. And savages, and maybe not savages with lamentation like the rustle of oaks, the buzzing of bees, the plash of waves, the silence of stones, and the aspect of the wilderness, carrying dishes over their heads, emerged and unhurriedly descended from the heights onto the far-from-numerous earth. Oh Pushkin. Pushkin.

All.

Translated by Robin Milner-Gulland