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Monday, 9 January 2012

Joseph Stalin: Morning


Joseph Stalin, 1902: photographer unknown, from Joseph Wissarionowitsch Stalin -- Kurze Lebenschreibung, Moscow 1947; image by ComtesseDeMingrelie, 23 February 2011

The pinkish bud has opened,
Rushing to the pale-blue violet
And, stirred by a light breeze,
The lily of the valley has bent over the grass.

The lark has sung in the dark blue,
Flying higher than the clouds
And the sweet-sounding nightingale
Has sung a song to children from the bushes.

Flower, oh my Georgia!
Let peace reign in my native land!
And may you, friends, make renowned
Our Motherland by study!

File:Red Army in Tbilisi Feb 25 1921.jpg

The Soviet Russian 11th Red Army holds a military parade in Tbilisi, 25 February 1921: photographer unknown; image by Kober, 6 December 2005 (Photomuseum of Georgia)

Self-portrait of Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii, created by Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii as part of his work to document the Russian Empire from 1904 to 1916: photo by Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii, 1912 (Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii Collection, Library of Congress)

Joseph Stalin (1878-1953): Morning, published under the pseudonym Soselo in the Georgian journal Iveria, 1895


TC said...

Chico the budgie will never forget this poem.

Vassilis Zambaras, student of international verse, prompted this recitation.


Tom check out these photos of Stalin's industrial scapes

TC said...



This shot reminded me of a scene from Tarkovsky's Solaris.

TC said...

Oh well, I meant the Core of the Death Star shot at the top.

Click on it!

ACravan said...

Wow . . . The final two lines . . . Rock. I think I'll post them on Jane's wall so she can study them while she does her homework. Curtis

TC said...


Know what you mean. Awesome. Had 'em up and dancing here, too.

"It IS a good homework assignment!"

Anonymous said...

beautiful verse, love the pics!!

ACravan said...

The rocket factory photos are indeed insane. Speaking of which, for obvious reasons I'm always drawn to look closely at the eyes, gaze and countenance of these killers. After reading Stalin's poem and looking at Hitler's paintings, I felt compelled to take my favorite Christmas present, The Cultural Revolution Cookbook (it's great) down from the shelf and remind myself of Mao's truly poetic and focused observation on the bean curd he enjoyed at the Huogongdian restaurant in the city of Changsha in 1958: "The strong-smelling bean curd at Huogongdian smells foul, but tastes delicious." One assumes that thus fortified, Mao was able to sally forth and get back to his serious population reduction work. Curtis

vazambam (Vassilis Zambaras) said...

"Vassilis Zambaras, student of international verse, prompted this recitation."

Well, in that case, Tom, may I continue with this little ditty?


Try craft’s pottage sleaze, jeez you’ll love it, poets
love it, love it, try craft’s pottage sleaze!

Anonymous said...

Would that more despotic murderers have been as handsome as the young Stalin. Incidentally, Simon Montefiore's book on Stalin is surprisingly stunning.

aditya said...

Some of the comments put me in mind for this-

I tell you the more i think, the more i feel that there is nothing more truely artistic than to love people.

A specter is haunting Europe - the specter of communism.

Capital is dead labor, which, vampire-like, lives only by sucking living labor, and lives the more, the more labor it sucks.

I am not a Marxist.

..only that the first one is by Van Gogh and the rest by Karl Marx.

TC said...

Despottage is only ever a missed kiss away,

As the Bible does not but probably ought to say.

I do like that Stalin bio, Brad.

It's one of a triad -- a little axis of evil bio-unit, one might say -- we've been thinking about here.

The second, obviously (see previous post), was a life of the Failed Artist; and the third a life of a character even weirder and darker (but is that possible?), if not tougher than the rest... no not Van Gogh but Richard Nixon.

Even beyond the days of bloody hatefilled glory there remained surviving pockets of Hitlerites and Stalinists -- obscure, yet, for those who knew about such things, still identifiable by their markings, slithering out to hatch their larvae round the club (did I mean to say globe?); but the Nixonists and Nixonites...

Always beware the invisible threat.

I have a friend whose life has been ineradicably altered by mites. One can't even see them. But they make themselves known by their effects,it seems... and could it be... lurking somewhere under the rug at one of those caucus-thingies, a whole colony, massing ... oh no!

I tell you the more I think, the more I feel that the only sort of -ist I would ever care to be is an Aditya-ist.

ACravan said...

Please note that we can help out in the mite department. Caroline diagnosed and saved the parakeets from a serious mite attack. No one should have their life ineradicably altered by "mite-mites" (who you have described accurately and well). As far as human mites go, that's another story. Curtis

Robb said...

He was quite handsome. I love the Grosky photo at the bottom.


Issa's Untidy Hut said...

My head was positively swimming until I came to this:


Now all is clear ...