袝胁谐械薪懈泄 袝胁褌褍褕械薪泻芯 Yevgeny Aleksandrovich Yevtushenko (Russian: 袝胁谐械薪懈泄 袗谢械泻褋邪薪写褉芯胁懈褔 袝胁褌褍褕械薪泻芯; born 18 July 1933 in Zima Junction, Siberia) is a Soviet and Russian poet. He is also a novelist, essayist, dramatist, screenwriter, actor, editor, and a director of several films.
"A poet's autobiography is his poetry. Anything else can only be a footnote. A poet is only a poet when the reader can see him whole as if he held him in the hollow of his hand with all his feelings, thoughts and actions."
Notes from Yevtushenko, A Precocious Autobiography
p. 69 "A poet has only one indispensable quality: whether he is simple or complicated, people must need him. Poetry, if it鈥檚 genuine, is not a racing car rushing senselessly around and around a closed track; it is an ambulance rushing to save someone.鈥� ~~ Kirsanov to Yevtushenko
p. 81 鈥淥f course Stalin never himself preached anti-Semitism as a theory, but the theory was inherent in his practice. Neither did Stalin in theory preach careerism, servility, spying, cruelty, bigotry, or hypocrisy. But these too were implicit in Stalin鈥檚 practice. This is why some people, such as the poet K, began to think and act in an anti-communist way though they regarded themselves as the most orthodox of Communists.
鈥淚 came to realize that those who speak in the name of communism but in reality pervert its meaning are among its most dangerous enemies, perhaps even more dangerous than its enemies in the West.鈥�
p. 89 鈥淩ussia鈥檚 poets were always fighters for the future of their country and for justice. Her poets helped Russia to think. Her poets helped Russia to struggle against her tyrants.鈥�
鈥淎fter Stalin鈥檚 death, when Russia was going through a very difficult moment of her inner life, I became convinced that I had no right to cultivate my private Japanese garden of poetry鈥�. To write only of nature or women or Weltschmerz at a time of hardship for your countrymen is almost amoral.
鈥淎nd it was a time of hardship for the Russians.鈥�
p. 112 鈥淥f course, I listened more than I spoke. Before you can have anything to say, you must learn to listen.鈥�
p. 115 鈥淚f, before, I felt a responsibility for my own country, I now felt a responsibility for the whole world. And so in every country I visited, instead of going to see the beautiful sights and historical monuments, I looked for men who were prepared to fight heart and soul against lies, the abuse of power, and the exploitation of man by man wherever they exist. And everywhere I found such men.鈥�
p. 116 鈥淭he struggle for the future.鈥�
p. 123-124 鈥淚n a caf茅 in Paris a student who did less than credit to his revolutionary forbears said to me: 鈥業n general I鈥檓 for socialism. But I鈥檇 rather wait until you get stores like the Galeries Lafayette in Moscow. After that I might consider fighting for socialism鈥�.鈥�
鈥淚 felt ashamed for this senile young man.鈥ㄢ€ㄢ€淲hat he wants is to have his future served to him on a silver platter, nicely cooked, brown outside and pink inside with a sprig of parsley; then perhaps he鈥檒l pick at it with his fork. We at least are making the future ourselves, doing without the barest necessities, suffering, making mistakes, but all the same doing it ourselves.
鈥淚t makes me proud not to be just an onlooker but to be taking part in my people鈥檚 heroic struggle for the future.鈥�
"When truth is replaced by silence,the silence is a lie." Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Yevgeny could not be silent in front of Josef Stalin's tyranny. And his his friends accused him as anti-communism and anti-revolution. But nothing stopped him from telling what he believed.
's was published in 1963 at the height of the poet's popularity. He was at that time a kind of rock star. He gave poetry readings to audiences in the thousands. He was allowed to travel to foreign countries, where other poets were consigned to the Gulag.
I guess I think less of him because he was too careful to work within the system. After the fall of Communism, he was criticized for his adherence to the official line. Oh, he criticized it -- but within limits that toed the official line.
I鈥檝e never read Yevtushenko鈥檚 work, so I can鈥檛 comment on his poetry; however, his autobiography is very, very good. I admit to crying multiple times, particularly in his depiction of Stalin鈥檚 funeral, however, it collapses toward the end, wherein Yevtushenko spends twenty pages being very smug, very self-congratulatory, and very, very arrogant. When he writes about the Russian people, he is incredibly moving; when he writes about himself, he just comes off like a pompous ass.
Stalinism was not just the cult of Stalin, it was the rule of a privileged bureaucracy (see 鈥楾he Revolution Betrayed鈥�). After the death of Stalin, the bureaucracy felt compelled to easy the massive repression, and allow a limited degree of freedom in the arts. During this democratic opening, Solzhenitsyn鈥檚 鈥淥ne Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich,鈥� relating what life was like in Stalin鈥檚 forced labor camps, and poems by Yevtushenko, such as his famous 鈥淏abi Yar,鈥� attacking Soviet anti-Semitism, were published.
I鈥檓 glad to see that there are a whole number of books of Yevtushenko鈥檚 poetry in print. This short but brilliant book, which caused the author problems back home gives you only a glimpse of the period of 鈥渄eStalinization鈥� and of the author. Hopefully someone is writing a full-length biography now, and hopefully it will be by someone wo has some understanding of the difference between communism and Stalinism.
Yevtushenko not only gave new life to poetry in the Soviet Union, with mass readings at universities and factories, telling youth what they had wanted to hear, but he played an important role as a spokesperson both for socialist democracy and for an internationalist outlook against the Russian chauvinism and 鈥渟ocialism in one country鈥� mentality.
Yevtushenko hated the bureaucratic privilege, and in a speech to a writers' congress held in Moscow in 1985 said, 鈥淎ny form of closed distribution of foods is morally impermissible, including the special coupons for souvenir kiosks that lie in the pocket of every delegate to this congress, myself ncluded.鈥� He spoke out against the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, and he was also a firm supporter of the Cuban Revolution:
鈥溾€� upon this island, where Lenin has been adopted by new kin, in a similar but unlike figure, Russia sees her own youth once again.鈥�
He was in Cuba in late 1961 during the period when the Fidelistas removed the Stalinist An铆bal Escalante from his role of organizational secretary of the Integrated Revolutionary Organizations, predecessor of the Cuban Communist Party of today (see 鈥楧ynamics of the Cuban Revolution鈥� and 鈥楽elected Speeches of Fidel Castro鈥�).
While there were times when Yevtushenko kept his head down in order not to lose his right to publish publicly, he was not a capitulator. So many writers and other dissidents had to publish in handwritten copies (see 鈥楽amizdat鈥�).
In another tribute to Revolutionary Cuba and the fight against bureaucracy, in 1961 Yevtushenko wrote 鈥淭he Mozarts of Revolution.鈥�
I heed the roar of the street with radiance, with trepidation. The music of revolution is like music of the ocean. All is in music鈥檚 power. 惭耻蝉颈肠鈥� is audacity, And, like Mozart, inspired, on the crest of the music is, Castro. The music raises on high its waves infuriate. 鈥極breros鈥� and 鈥榗ampesinos鈥欌€� are the best sons of the nation. All of them are composers, Mozarts of revolution. The Mozarts of revolution, have always their own Salieris. But the Mozarts鈥� prove themselves stronger. 惭耻蝉颈肠鈥� is for flight. In music, There鈥檚 nothing profane. If someone plays it falsely, the music is not to blame. Berets of olive-color, Sombreros made of straw鈥� this is no operetta but the era鈥檚 oratorio! The music of revolution makes the blood of many run cold. Chandeliers overseas somewhere clink nervously in the halls What then? are you none too pleased by the thunder above your heads? You can not deal with the music? It will deal with you instead! I do not wish for applause, nor glory, that passes so quickly, I wish to remain to posterity, if but as a single phrase, part of the music that鈥檚 sighting the foe, of the stern, of the incorruptible of the very greatest music鈥� the music of revolution! And maybe successors will say that, trusting in that music wholly, I have been of its Mozarts and not of its Salieris.
Only in Russia is poetry respected 鈥� it gets people killed. Is there anywhere else where poetry is so common a motive for murder?
-attributed to Osip Mandelstam
Recently I finished a book only half-remembered from my youth, Yevtushenko鈥檚 A Precocious Autobiography.
I had no idea that a poet I had long admired was such a tosser. He claims to have been a championship table-tennis player, that he could have been a professional soccer player, that he mastered ju-jitsu and can beat anyone up and that he is afraid of nothing, that everyone failed to understand his brilliance as a poet while simultaneously admiring him for his brilliance, that the Soviets picked on him even while flying him all over the world to represent the Soviet Union and proudly assert his Communism, and that he who would later earn lots of money and own at least two homes airily disapproved of money like a good comrade.
A photograph in the book is labeled 鈥淵evtushenko and Galya at the home of the former Luftwaffe General Huebner鈥� but an admittedly quick search through the InterGossip does not indicate that there was any such person.
The famous and contradictory first line of his autobiography is 鈥淎 poet鈥檚 autobiography is his poetry.鈥�
Yevtushenko accuses Arthur Rimbaud of having been a slave trader when in fact there is no evidence for it (Rimbaud was certainly bad enough in other ways, including being an arms dealer). Yevtushenko also claims to be a sophisticated art critic and patronizes other cultures and peoples in unfortunate and sometimes offensive language. He faults Western nations for their failings (and fair enough) but ignores the seventy years of horror and mass executions and mass incarcerations and the genocidal mania of the Communist Revolution. Oh, and Lenin was a good fellow; Communism would have worked had not Stalin betrayed the Revolution.
And so it goes, for 124 self-serving pages.
Perhaps Yevtushenko鈥檚 most famous poem is 鈥淏abiy Yar鈥� (there are variant spellings in English even by Yevtushenko himself), admitting the Russian / Ukrainian silencing of the Nazi massacre of some 34,000 Jews in the Babi Yar ravine near Kiev in two days in 1941, with thousands of more Jews as well as Roma, prisoners of war, Russians accused of partisan activity, the mentally ill, and others. Possibly some 100,000 people were murdered there in the Nazi time, and there may have been Russian / Ukrainian compliance. After the war the Communists downplayed the Jewish focus. Yevtushenko is praised for his courage in bringing up the matter, but the reality is that he could not have published that poem without the permission of the Communist government, and perhaps on their orders.
In this short poem Yevtushenko refers to himself in first-person pronouns at least 27 times, making Babi Yar about himself.
Given all this, I recommend the book highly. Yes, it really is interesting, but as with the most gaseous old man in the corner down at the diner you can鈥檛 rely upon his veracity.
Beyond that, Yevtushenko鈥檚 poetry is fascinating. I have no Russian, and while the standard for Russian poetry is rhyming iambic tetrameter, I don鈥檛 know how he structured it, but the content is brilliant.
Also brilliant is his anthology, 20th Century Russian Poetry (he doesn鈥檛 neglect to give himself lots of space in it).
Yevtushenko admires himself, but, yes, there is much to admire.
Peace to you, Yevgeny, you old rascal; you鈥檒l always be one of my favorites.
Soviet Russian Poet, Writer, Journalist, Diplomat, Historian Yevgeny Yevtushenko's "A Precocious Autobiography" was published very early, in 1965. Yevtushenko's long work years with poetry, literature and philosophy brought a very rich life! In this early book, Yevtushenko writes his childhood and youth years when he lived in Soviet cities. Yevgeny Yevtushenko explains his poetry's sources in Soviet life in his "A Precocious Autobiography". Yevtushenko brought the very new thoughts, the very new poetical forms, the very new poetical philosophy to the Soviet Russian Poetry, in his book, Yevtushenko decribes his poetical work's development in the Soviet societies - the effects of the different Soviet nations' cultures, the Soviet education, the Soviet Communist Party, the Soviet international relations, the Soviet history.
An interesting first-person narrative, obviously idealized. Surprisingly touching. In retrospect, totally tragic: he expressed an ardent belief in a just world for all that I imagine could not have survived into his old age. (I think Evtushenko died in the 2010's.)
Full of strident wisdom, which, whilst excellent at face value, is also interesting in the light of Yevtushenko鈥檚 reputation as a politics/poetry tightrope walker.
A friend of mine introduced me to Yevteshenko in 1976. I love his poetry, so I thought it would be interesting to read about his early life. For such a short read, the full flavor of the Soviet people washed over me in his prose. I learned that Russian poets are more than poets, they are the political barometers of a civilization. Russian poets write for the people. They mirror pain and suffering and joy and revolution. They give people hope for a better world. I forgot how much I enjoyed his poetry in a time when I needed support. I need to read about his current life to see how Yevteshenko's perspective has changed, if at all.
Read (actually listened, for the most part) in a day. I think it's the fastest I've ever finished a book without drawings. It was a mandatory reading for my Russian History course; we have to make an assignment using this biography as source. Wish me luck, it's due next week! Yevtushenko wrote this at the age of 33, and his retelling seem to stop in his mid to late 20s. It's a short biography, he talks about his childhood between Siberia and Moscow and how he discovered his passion for writing, and all throghout the book he talks about his compromise with the communist cause and how the image of Stalin changed for him and for the Russian people. I would like to think what he thought about his own autobiography in his latest years.