1 Vladimir Mayakovsky translated by James McGavran

TAMARA AND THE DEMON One of Mayakovsky’s better known and more amusing metapoetic works, inspired by his journey through the Caucasus in the summer of 1924. His concrete source texts here are two works by the quintessential Russian Romantic poet, Mikhail Lermontov (1814–1841). Lermontov’s ballad “Tamara” recounts the legend of a Georgian queen who lured travelers to her tower by singing, granted them one night of wild passion, then tossed their lifeless bodies into a deep river gorge: the price of the queen’s love was death. In Lermontov’s long narrative poem The Demon, on the other hand, it is the love of the immortal and cursed title character that causes the death of the young heroine (also named Tamara, but not a queen). In Mayakovsky’s version, which combines the titles and some of the characters of Lermontov’s poems, no one dies, and by the end of the poem, the irrepressible speaker has apparently domesticated the fearsome queen.

So this is the Terek1 that has poets And I hadn’t seen it.

in hysterics.

Big loss, I’m sure. I stepped off the bus, waddled down, spat into the Terek from the shore, poked a stick into its foamy water. What’s so great about it? A total wreck! Kicks and screams like Yesenin2 in a police station. It seems Lunacharsky,3 on his way to Borjomi, botched the Terek’s organization. I want to turn up my insolent nose A major river in the Northern Caucasus that flows through Russia and Georgia into the Caspian Sea. The Terek figures prominently in both Lermontov source texts mentioned in the introduction. 2 Sergei Yesenin (1895–1925) was a popular representative of the Peasant Poets movement and somewhat of a rival or foil to Mayakovsky. In the 1920s, as his alcoholism raged out of control, Yesenin became internationally known for brawls and other scandalous behavior in public. 3 Anatoly Lunacharsky (1875–1933) was the Soviet Union’s first Commissar of Enlightenment and a frequent polemical target of Mayakovsky, though he championed the poet’s work to an extent. 1

2 and I feel it:

I freeze on the verge, I fall under the sway of a strange hypnosis, the effervescence of water and foam. That tower, like a revolver pointed at the sky’s head, strikes me down with its pristine beauty. Go ahead, just try to subject it to the chairman of the arts— Peter Semyonych Kogan.4 As I stand here the spite takes hold, to think, this ragged terrain, these rock faces, like such a talentless hack I sold for fame, reviews, and public debates. My place is not in Red Grain Fields,5 but here, and not paid by the line, but free of charge I should strive at the top of my voice to roar, ripping out the strings of guitars. I know my voice: the tone may be lousy, but its furious strength Kogan (1872–1932) was a critic and president of the State Academy of the Arts. Mayakovsky often mentions him in his poetry of the 1920s, usually putting his name in a rhyming position (see also “To Sergei Yesenin”). 5 A Soviet literary journal published from 1923 to 1931. The name of the journal, however, is singular (i.e., Krasnaia niva or Red Grain Field), which suggests that Mayakovsky is also rejecting Russia’s flat, agricultural landscapes (the Russian steppe, etc.) in favor of wild Caucasian vistas. 4

3 is fearsome.

Whoever’s seen it

won’t have any Tamara would hear me. Though she’s wound up, majestically But I tell her

the queen restrains herself,

wags her finger. up front:

if you’re a queen After all,

doubts that

“I don’t give a damn or a laundress!

for these songs of yours—

Whereas laundry

what’s your fee?!

means a kopeck for the family. And the mountains don’t give away much for free: just water— go ahead, have a drink!” The queen’s in a fury, reaches straight for her dagger. Like a nanny-goat shot out of a Berdan.6 But you know me, I tell her, with my customary swagger— taking her by the arm… courteously… “Ma’am! Why blow your top like a steam engine? You and I are part of the same lyrical filmstrip. I’ve known you for ages, heard so much about you from a certain Lermontov. 6

An American-made rifle used by the Russian military from 1869 to 1891 (and later, as a reserve issue).

4 He swore

that in passion

You’re just the way

you had no equal.

I pictured you. I’m done waiting for love, I’m thirty years old. Let’s love each other. Simply. A love to make this cliff spread flat like a fluffy bed. I’ll hide you from the devil and from god! What’s the Demon to you? A fantasy! Nothing but a spirit! And a bit too old for you— mythology. Be a dear, don’t throw me into the abyss. You think that pain’s enough to scare me off? I don’t even care if my jacket gets ripped, much less my sides or my chest. You give a guy a good shove from here, and he’ll fall smack dead into the Terek. To get thrown out in Moscow is more painful by far! You count steps all the way down the staircase. My work here is finished, it’s not my affair. Let Pasternak write about it,

5 for all I care,7

in a fury

of corrections and inkblots. As for us… just say yes, Tamara!” The rest of the story isn’t fit for books. I’m a modest fellow, and I’m quitting. The Demon himself flew down, eavesdropped, and stalked off,

then drooped

stinking

to no purpose. Lermontov comes to see us, scorning rifts in time. He beams— “What a happy pair!” I love company. A bottle of wine! Pour a drink for the Hussar, Tamarochka dear! 1924

Boris Pasternak’s book of poems My Sister Life (1922) is dedicated to Lermontov and opens with the poem “In Memory of the Demon.” 7