Inktober 2023
Day 29 - Pechorin
"His name was... Grigori Aleksandrovich Pechorin. He was a splendid
fellow, I can assure you, but a little peculiar."
(M.Y. Lermontov "A Hero of Our Time")
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“He does not see in the Emperor the great foe of Russia, he does not think of the burning of Moscow, he does not picture Napoleon marching across Europe at the head of his invincible hosts. No! he sees him as the great leader abandoned on the desolate island of St. Helena . . . another one of those magnificent heroes who cannot find a place in a petty world.”
— Clarence A. Manning on Mikhail Lermontov’s poetry about the Napoleonic Wars
(Napoleon and Lermontov)
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Demon, Mikhail Lemontov
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Mermaid Drowned Lermontov
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Un vero amico
[…] io non sono capace di amicizia; di due amici uno è sempre schiavo dell’altro, benché spesso nessuno dei due lo ammetta […]
M. J. Lermontov, [Герой нашего времени, Geroj našego vremeni, 1839], Un eroe del nostro tempo, Milano, Feltrinelli, 2004 [Trad. P. Nori]
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gözlerimde umuda benzer bir şeyler arıyordu; ona acıdım.
lermontov - a hero of our time
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Jumping from a Mikhail Lermontov reading spree to a Vronsky rabbit hole, ending up with Julien Sorel once again. Aka just me living my best life with some literary obsessions
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“The heavenly lights, which according to those men were only lit to illuminate their battles and triumphs, still shine as brightly as ever, while the men’s passions and hopes perished with them long ago, like a tiny fire lit by some careless wanderer on the forest’s edge.”
— Mikhail Lermontov, A Hero of Our Time
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Tamara and the Demon 🦇 [demon, mikhail lermontov]
2023
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I.
When all my short existence is but ash,
And I lie hid beneath the grass and loam;
When I am but a shade, a sound, a flash
Of memory, ephemeral as foam;
When, at my name, young pals no longer splash
A glass of wine to call my spirit home —
Take out this simple harp: it holds the key
To buried dreams; it was a friend to me.
II.
Go, hang it by the window, where the raw
Untempered touch of autumn winds may play
Across its strings, to even faintly draw
The distant echo of a bygone day;
But all your ardent efforts cannot thaw
Its frozen voice — you strum, and strum away…
Those silent strings are but an aspect of
The slumber of the one who sang your love.
[Loosely adapted from Lermontov’s poem “The harp” (1830 or 1831).]
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Mikhail Lermontov, A Hero of Our Time
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“Son of the sea, midst the seas shall be thy grave.”
— Lermontov on the death of Napoleon, from the poem St. Helena (1831)
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More duels of antiquity should have been settled as boxing matches
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Yesterday I was at an author’s lecture. Poetry inspired me to do this sketch
Lermontov, Angel
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