Под копни волос проникнет ли удар?
Мысль
одна под волосища вложена:
"Причесиваться? Зачем же?!
На время не стоит труда,
а вечно
причесанным быть
невозможно".
I wish I could translate this poem of Vladimir Mayakovsky in English. I used to translate some of his lyrics in Georgian when I was sophomore at university. Maybe I will one day. This one is about why combing one's hair when you can't remain combed forever... it is all about you, what's in your head. At least that's what I think Mayakovsky meant.
I have been connected to Mayakovsky since childhood - the office where my mother worked was facing his huge monument. He was standing there in the rain and sunshine with his strict face, big feet and with the cloud in his pants I guess (облако в штанах). And I was walking by him everyday after school, thinking whether it was his hat around his head or his hair. Now I believe it was the hat.
There is nothing like childhood memories, is there? Probably that's when my love to Russian poetry began and I was meant to live this life of wanderer, searching for the truth. What else is poetry than searching on and on.
Mayakovsky was born in Georgia indeed. I guess that's why he had got this bold attitude. Ok, I have this little nationalist thing about my country, but face it - Georgia is this tiny winy country caught in the middle between huge Russia and Turkey, and still lots of famous and talented people were born there, who excelled in arts, politics and etc. So there is something about the land even if you were just born there you have got passion and attitude in your bones.
If so, one may ask, why did Mayakovsky and I leave that country in the end? Perhaps we wanted to miss it more, to feel it more and to dream of it in our violet dreams.
Honestly, life is very prosaic as my mother loved to say when I was younger, and I never understood it. Life is what you make it. Life is yours, only yours. It is not about poetry or proses, it is about individuals - sunshine and thunder.
My life is not that. It is a movie :)
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