Autumn Poetics

By Marina Kochetova

Do not presume to fathom
The divine mysteries
Of poetic harmony
From the books of sages.
(A. N. Maykov)

It is difficult to disagree with Marina Tsvetaeva’s words about summer: “Summer is like a weekend. Just as wonderful—and it passes just as quickly. June is Friday, July is Saturday, and August is Sunday.” It is September now—in other words, Monday—but the weather remains summery. Apparently, we are enjoying a long weekend. It makes one want to admire nature’s changing colours and read favourite poems.

There are fewer women poets than men, and the most beloved among them are, undoubtedly, Marina Tsvetaeva and Anna Akhmatova. We live in a time when many readers would rather listen to poetry performed by masters of the spoken word than curl up under a soft blanket and savour a volume by a favourite poet themselves. Today this has become widely accessible thanks to countless audiobooks and numerous recordings on YouTube. Fortunately, live performances still take place as well.

Reciting poetry is a delicate art. When performed by a professional, it leaves an indelible impression on the listener’s soul.

I have had the good fortune to attend several such events, and each one brought me tremendous pleasure. The earliest was a recital by Alisa Freindlich, which I described in one of my previous essays. It took place many years ago in Tula. While reciting Marina Tsvetaeva’s complex and challenging poetry, the actress paused for long moments, raised her voice in anger, seemed to gasp with indignation, then suddenly cried out or spoke hoarsely, barely above a whisper. She stood motionless before the microphone; only her hands moved. Like the hands of a ballerina, they fluttered nervously, expressing bewilderment, fury, surprise, and contempt…

I also vividly remember an evening with Yevgenia Simonova, which I was fortunate enough to attend in 2017. It was part of a series of musical and poetic evenings held at the Bashmet Centre in Moscow. The actress read Anna Akhmatova’s Requiem. I was profoundly moved by her piercing performance.

After moving to Ottawa, in the early 2000s I attended a concert by Natalia Varley. She became famous not only for her unforgettable role in Kidnapping, Caucasian Style, but also as the author of several poetry collections, many of whose verses were later set to music. She performed some of them in the Canadian capital, pleasantly surprising the audience.

Actresses who recite poetry bring a gentle charm to their performances—something male performers do not possess in quite the same way. It is uniquely feminine. Margarita Terekhova, for example, is always restrained in both her movements and her voice. Tatiana Doronina is exquisitely coquettish. Natalia Belokhvostikova displays a distinctly refined intelligence. Yet each of them remains entirely faithful to her own performance style.

Svetlana Kryuchkova, in my view, uses gestures sparingly, yet the listener can feel the intensity of her emotions and the restraint of her passion. By presenting poetic lines to an audience, these actresses add vividness and colour to them.

Poems from the war years, performed by Olga Ostroumova in a Russian television broadcast, left a lasting impression on me. I was also interested in Alla Demidova’s Theatre of Poetry, a program broadcast on Radio Kultura since 2008. It seems to me that in Alla Demidova’s performances, poetry becomes alive and musical. But that is merely my opinion. There is no accounting for taste.

Poetry means something different to each of us—and for some people, perhaps, it means nothing at all. Yet everyone seems eager to call themselves a reader, even those who pick up a book only by chance and neither understand nor enjoy reading.

True connoisseurs of poetry also respond differently to the works of different poets. For some, poetry has its own unique sound within them, one that does not correspond even to the finest actor’s interpretation. Poetry lovers listen online to actresses reciting Tsvetaeva, for example, yet refuse to favour any particular performer. Moreover, once they enter an online forum, they may harshly criticize those who sincerely try to bring joy to others and reach the very depths of their hearts.

Chulpan Khamatova is accused of placing stresses incorrectly and failing to understand the text. Olga Ostroumova is reproached for inappropriate enthusiasm and excessive pathos. Alisa Freindlich is criticized for reciting poems written in youth while already at an advanced age… People, come to your senses! Can you yourselves recite poetry while conveying its meaning, rhythm, and tempo precisely, without adding anything the poet did not intend?

We are all different. Some people value our silence; others value our words. And some love us simply because we are part of their lives. Let us try to appreciate what we have and treat one another with respect—especially now, in these difficult times.

After all, Indian summer is just around the corner, ready to bring more colour, warmth, and light into our lives!