#blessay

We have already noted the prevalence of birds in Heaney's poems, as well as their significance as a representation of sexual freedom, constantly longed for and occasionally attained. Not infrequently, they are also imbued with a more direct allegorical meaning; an example of this would be The Blackbird of Glanmore, in which the titular blackbird stands in for Brodsky. Heaney's love of the blackbird is contrasted with his neighbour — representing society at large — stating: "I never liked yon bird." The bird is linked with death, especially with that of Heaney's younger brother, who was killed in an accident at the age of four — this is because the poem was written several years after Brodsky passed away, and in Heaney's mind the two deaths that affected him the most are merged as one. The unusual description of the blackbird's personality — "your ready talkback,/Your each stand-offish comeback" — is perfectly consistent with that of Brodsky, who was sent to a Soviet prison camp after a cheeky remark to a judge.1

With this allegorical insertion of Brodsky as a blackbird, it is difficult not to make the connection between this poem and the earlier St Kevin and the Blackbird, in which a blackbird nests in St. Kevin's palm, forcing him to remain still for weeks until the eggs hatch. If we reasonably assume that the blackbird represents Brodsky once again, then it is logical to observe that Heaney is St. Kevin. Brodsky's appearance into his life links Heaney "Into the network of eternal life," which also justifies the presence of "love's deep river". Until their love fledges, Heaney is filled with a mixture of self-forgetfulness and pain; while the beginnings of any love can be fraught with uncertainty and difficulty, it is clear that the queer nature of the relationship in question left Heaney agonising over its implications to an exceptional extent. As we will see again, Heaney's acceptance of his own sexual identity came slowly and hesitantly, and the first stages of his journey of self-discovery were full of fear and suffering.

The blackbird as a symbol for Brodsky crops up in several other poems. The "perfect eye of the nesting blackbird" in Field Work represents the ability to see the hidden truth about Heaney's sexuality. The "dart and dab" of blackbirds around the scribe in Alphabets symbolises Brodsky's role in Heaney's attainment of wisdom and self-understanding. The "young priest, glossy as a blackbird" of Station Island shows Heaney's reconciliation of his sexual identity and his religious beliefs. We also see the bird in the poem Drifting Off, in which many different species of the avian family are described and personified. I speculated before that each bird is meant to represent a different person, which I consider still plausible — it makes sense that Heaney "overrated the composure of blackbirds," since he managed to connect with Brodsky at a deeper lever than the latter's typical outward harshness — but I now suspect that each bird sybolises a different element of Brodsky's personality. Analysing the poem in the view of this idea would be productive, but this blessay is not the place for such an in-depth piece of work. A quick read of the poem, however, should make it apparent that each of the traits describes adds up to a cohesive whole, accounting for the various facets of character — both the good and the bad.

After interpreting all these birds as representing Brodsky, a wider interpretation of Heaney's figurative approach leads us to consider other animals as allegorical characters. The sexualisation of the badger in Badgers — "The unquestionable houseboy’s shoulders/that could have been my own" — and the similar treatment of The Otter — "I loved your wet head and smashing crawl,/Your fine swimmer’s back and shoulders" — are both clear expressions of queer love. The voyeuristic observation in The Skunk leaves no doubts to Heaney's true intentions. The communion-as-gay-sexual-union of the titillating Oysters is about as subtle as an elephant with an airhorn:

My tongue was a filling estuary, My palate hung with starlight: As I tasted the salty Pleiades Orion dipped his foot into the water. Alive and violated They lay on their beds of ice

If we decide to include one of the most common queer symbols — flowers, which may not be animals, but are nonetheless alive — we can add Heaney's "erotic mayflowers" in Bone Dreams; his soul weeping as he touches the violets in His Dawn Vision; the "pined-for" orchid in After a Killing; the "Lupin spires, erotics of the future" of Lupins; the plainly sexual "high stream-roof that moved in silence over/Rhododendrons in full bloom" in The Walk; the phallic "comet’s pulsing rose" of Exposure... I could keep going, but anyone who finds the mountain of evidence presented here insufficient is clearly blinded by prejudice and will categorically refuse to see reason, so it is futile to continue.

It is impossible to fail to notice that Brodsky became the focal point of Heaney's poetic output after their love-at-first-sight meeting, and that he is present — more or less conspicuously — in almost every one of his poems. I have presented here but a small selection of examples, and I have no doubt missed some important symbols in my research, yet what we have already is overwhelming — and I still have to apologise for the insufficient time and effort put into this exposé, because in truth, every poem mentioned here in passing warrants at the very least its own paragraph, and most should be accorded their own blessay. This relentless torrent of Brodskian allegory is a testament to the fact that Heaney's œuvre is, in essence, one massive — elaborate — intricate — mammoth monument of queer love.

In the interest of impartial and complete consideration, we can begin with the praiseworthy aspects of the poem (this will not be a long paragraph). The idea of writing a poem about the underappreciated discoverer of radioactivity is in itself laudable. The link between power and vulnerability alluded to is important, even if it is not handled well. The poem is also rather short, which makes it more bearable — this, however, strikes me more as emptiness than as conciseness. We could finally add the alliteration of "body bombarded", were it not so clearly accidental.

Unfortunately, no amount of alliteration could save the poem from its unimpressive content. Leaving aside the more minor issues — such as the reference to a singular "element", when Marie Curie famously discovered two of them — Power fundamentally fails to be the feminist masterpiece it could have been under the pen of a better poet. Not only does Rich questionably portray Marie Curie as being in unscientific denial, the titular concept is perverted by claiming that Curie's power came from radiation:

She died    a famous woman    denying her wounds denying her wounds    came    from the same source as her power

But this is clearly not true — her strength came from within, from her personality and willpower, from the mind that led to her outstanding scientific achievement. Claiming otherwise objectifies and dehumanises her in a disgustingly misogynist fashion. Adrienne Rich is the worst kind of pseudofeminist, one who pretends to fight for women's rights while obstructing equality and tolerance in a similar fashion to trans-exclusive "feminists".1

A stylistic and technical analysis of the poem sinks us even deeper into the pits of despair. Nevermind rhyme — we do not even get assonance, consonance or euphony to compensate for the rhythmic anarchy. Other than the meaningless line breaks and the even more pointless spacing, there is little to make this "poem" anything more than prose. The spaces are the most perplexing of all — in the first four-line stanza, they seem to indicate (logically) slight pauses, in a way similar to Emily Dickinson's dashes. In the rest of the poem, however, they make absolutely no sense — which casts doubt on whether they were even intended to have significance in that stanza. They do not even shape the pacing or slow lines down in any reasonable way. They seem to be nothing more than a failed attempt to make this literary scarecrow look more like 'a poem':

Living    in the earth-deposits    of our history

The fact that Marie Curie is no longer alive may make such tripe less harmful, but Power still infringes unacceptably on her memory. If anything, the lack of her worldly presence makes it all seem like we are gossiping behind her back. Adrienne Rich pretends to honour her and to support the struggle of feminism — perhaps she even believes to have done so in this poem — but what we ultimately receive serves only to offend and frustrate.

Marie Curie's remarkable achievements make her easily my favourite scientist. She discovered polonium and radium; she coined the term ‘radioactivity’; her inventions saved millions of lives. In a deeply sexist age, she became the first woman to win the Nobel Prize, and the first person — not the first woman, the first person — to win two Nobel Prizes. Yes, we should all write odes to her — but surely she deserves a better poem than this?

During Celtic times, Irish women had more or less equal rights with men. There were many famous female role models for young girls and boys to look up to; these included the legendary queen Méabh and pagan goddesses such as Mórrígan. Unfortunately, the poems that would have been told during this time period were never written down, so we do not know how women were portrayed in them. It is probable that they would have been portrayed positively, considering the equality of gender roles present in that society.

Literacy reached Ireland in the fifth century and came alongside Christianity. While Christianity is often critiqued for its portrayal of women, Christian women in Ireland then were just as strong as their male counterparts. St. Brigid of Kildare is one of the most important women in Irish history; she was a nun — a profession usually associated with conservative tradition. Yet the teachings of the bible didn’t restrict her from being strong and independent. In fact, St. Brigid was close friends with one of Ireland’s first poets - Dubthach maccu Lugair. Dubthach and the other poets of the time were overwhelmingly not sexist. One of the most notable works of early Irish poetry is the prosimetrum by Táin Bó Cuailnge. The first recensions in this beautifully written collection are in celebration of Queen Méabh; she is treated as an equal — if not a superior — to her husband. Other strong female characters follow her, including the sovereignty goddess Macha, the villainous Morrígan, and Gráinne, who shows great power in her taking control of her own sexuality. These are only some of the most notable women to feature in these poems; were I to list them all, it would take all day!

In those days, composing poetry was one of the most lucrative professions in Ireland. This was due to the many kings across Ireland employing personal poets, known as ollams. These ollams were required to have hundreds of original poetic stories ready upon request for the king. What a shame that so many of these doubtlessly great pieces of work have been lost forever! These poems celebrated Irish royals, Biblical figures and figures from Celtic Mythology, including the strong women from each of these sources. My favourite piece is the poetic narrative An Banshenchas, written in 1147 by Gilla Mo Dutu Úa Caiside. This is the ultimate piece of feminist writing from the bardic period of poetry; it celebrates many notable women, from what the author considered to be the beginning of time with God’s Eve up to 1030 with Gormlaith ingen Murchada, a queen who stood as a symbol between the relationship of the native people of Ireland and the Viking settlers. This is not a celebration of one type of woman — we see so many different personalities and characterisations, from the somewhat passive Miriam to the perseverant and powerful Étaín. There is truly a woman in this collection for anyone to relate to, which is a testament to the feminist nature of a poem written 990 years ago in supposedly sexist times!

The most prestigious position a poet could get in this period of time would be Ollamh Érenn, or the Chief Ollam of Ireland. They would sit next to the high king of the country and be commended by all. Out of all of the documented ones, a single woman held the title — Uallach ingen Muinecháin. Since she was the first famous Irish female poet, one would think that her work would be taught to all, yet none of it survives. Were it not for her obituary in the Annals of Innisfallen, this trailblazer would have been forgotten entirely.

But ollams were not the only type of poets around; they were in fact only one subset of the poetry grouping known as filid. The type of filid that is best known today is a bard. Bards were actually the lowest position a poet could take, but the word has become synonymous with poet in the context of Ancient Ireland. Ancient Irish poetry is commonly referred to as bardic poetry, even by many scholars, despite the term's inaccuracy. It is often stated that it is unknown if any of these bards were female (Walker, 1786). However, the previously mentioned Muinech and Sadhbh Ó Mailchonaire are two factual exceptions. As with Muinech, Ó Mailchonaire’s works has been lost and the most famous record of her is her obituary. (Unknown, 1447) There are also some other potential candidates as ancient Irish poets, although once again these women’s works do not survive to this day. Agnes Carkill was a poet who performed for King James IV of Scotland in 1512 and there is speculation that she hailed from the Antrim family, Mac Fhergail, which would have been her maiden name (Bourke, 2002). Walker who spent years researching bards, speculates that the Caoine was written by a woman; most scholars agree with this opinion. The Caoine is a weeping lament, which was performed by women at funerals; its practice has spread from Ireland as far as Libya and Egypt. It is best known today for being the origin of the banshee myth. Women were also associated with the poetic form amhráin, which is a poem that’s sung, a practice which became prominent in the 16th century. It is also possible that many of the anonymous poems were written by women, especially since many of these poems feature distict feminist undertones, such as the spectacular St. Brigid’s Prayer which has since been translated by Brendan Kennelly.

It is also worth mentioning fictional female poets who appeared in ancient Irish stories. One of the characters who appears in Acallam na Senórach, the longest surviving work of medieval Irish literature, is Créide. She is described as a fine poet who invites males to a hostel in order to judge their poems. Créide is one of the first fictional poetry critics, but unfortunately she is not celebrated to the extent that she deserves to be. The Daughter of úa Dulsaine appears in a story by Cormac mac Cuilennáin (who died in 908), where she is one of the most popular poets in Ireland and travels around the country and abroad to show off her poetic prowess. Some suggest that this account is based off a true story and mac Cuilennáin just added the fantasy elements (Nicholson, 2016).

Another feminist fact about Ancient Irish poetry is that what we know today was as alliteration was named after women. It was referred to as “brichtu ban, brechtaib ban”, which roughly translates as “charms of women”. (Stifter, 2016) This technique is found in almost all surviving bardic poetry from its inception to its end. I do find it odd that such a prevalent term was named after women’s ability to speak in an enchanting manner, and yet that this very same society supposedly would not let these women write their hypnotic words down.

Compared to other countries Ireland has quite a lot of surviving poetry, but it’s only a small selection of what was written at the time. Many recorded works of poetry were destroyed in 686 AD after the Saxons raided Ireland, and again in 798 AD when the Vikings settled. Their cultures were more sexist than that of the Celts and their prejudice might be another reason why there are so few works that are credited to a woman from this period. The Saxons and Vikings were not completely able to destroy Celtic culture and bardic poetry, however, despite their best efforts; the bardic tradition managed to continue for hundreds of years after their arrival.

Poetry in Ireland began to shift during its Tudor conquest between 1529 and 1603. Queen Elizabeth brought the first English poets over to Ireland as she was claiming land, one of the most famous examples being Sir Walter Raleigh. This sexist poet’s writings did not have much influence on the Emerald Isle; in fact, in Éirinn he is most notable for the assumption that he planted the first potato in Ireland, even though this is pure speculation and it is far more likely this was done by a Spanish man or woman. (McNeill, 1949)

After England conquered the country in 1601 and Hugh O’Neill surrendered, bardic schools began to shut down. One of Ireland’s most infamous literary controversies — the Contention of the Bards — occurred during this time period. The bards attacked each other through verse, and it brought the end to their influence on the country. Bards were now just known as poets and it was becoming rare for poetry to be one's full-time occupation. Since there were no more kings, poets had to adapt and find patronage from the English settlers. Most of these settlers wanted their poems in English, not Irish, and thus a shift in language began to occur. Many refused to take part in it as it interfered with their Catholic beliefs; those wealthy enough migrated to Catholic countries in continental Europe to study poetry in college. Unfortunately, no one would fund these poor Catholic writers, so almost all of their work has been lost. As Protestant England was an extremely sexist society (even when it was ruled by a queen, ironically), women were discouraged from becoming poets as well.

The harsh Penal Laws put in place in Ireland by England forbade the teaching of the Irish language and poetry to Catholics. To circumvent this people pretended (often unsuccessfully) to be Protestant, or else taught children in secret 'hedge schools'. Hedge schools kept the tradition of Irish poetry alive, but if people were caught teaching in them or being secret poets they were arrested and punished. In Cork in 1584, 71 men an 1 woman were arrested. She was named Mary-ny-Dononoghue and dubbed by the presentation to the jury as “she-barde” and “rhymer”.

Before we get into the bleak sexism, I’d like to bring up two notable female poets who existed in the 17th and 18th centuries: Mary Monck and Charlotte Brooke. Both women come from wealthy backgrounds and married rich men, so they were able to avoid punishment as a result. Monck was multilingual and spoke English, Latin, Italian and Spanish. Many of her works can be found in the 1775 collection Poems by Eminent Ladies, which is definitely worth a read. Unfortunately for some reason in this collection Monck is miscredited as Mrs. Monk! Brooke was homeschooled by her father, who was also a writer. She was interested in the Irish language and became bilingual through hours of study. She not only wrote poems, but translated them too; yet despite being just as talented as her male counterparts, if not more, she was never accorded the same respect as them. Her poetry is rich in storytelling and employs a multitude of techniques, including an effective application of the most obvious ones: rhyme, repetition and rhythm. Monck is also very skilled in her writing; we will discuss possible reasons for why they have been forgotten by history later.

We see the first signs of widespread sexist poems in Ireland during this time frame. Epithalamia made their way to Eirinn in the writings of Dáibhí Ó Bruadair. While epithalamia in theory do not have to be sexist, almost all of the ones written during these times treated the women as inferior to men. There is also the establishment of poetry circles that would only allow male members; the most notable of these was Seán Ó Tuama’s and Andrias MacRait’s Maigue Poets. (Joyce, 1961)

Aodhagán Ó Rathaille’s aisling was invented in this time period and it constitutes one of the most uncomfortable forms of poetry I have ever witnessed. Aislings are set in dreams where women appear to the poet; often the woman appearing in such a dream is an anthropomorphic depiction of Ireland. This poetic brought the Mother Ireland concept into popular culture. Filmmaker Pat Murphy summed up it best when describing Mother Ireland in an excellent 1991 documentary about that subject: “[Mother Ireland] is not a positive image, the associations I have with it are not positive ones, I actually think it’s a wrong thing to do – to call a country after a woman – because it gets into those kind of areas where a country is to be won, or penetrated, or ploughed. And it means that women aren’t seen for themselves”. (Crilly, 1991)

Unfortunately, the concept of Mother Ireland did not stop at one poem; it was featured in several of Ó Rathaille’s aislings, as well as aislings written by other men. The concept transcends the aisling form and poets such as Thomas Moore began writing poems about Mother Ireland. The most notable of his poems about this oppressive concept is The Origin of the Harp, which inspired an equally sexist painting by Daniel Maclise in the 19th century. Even Roisin Dubh, which was an innocent poem about a man being in love with a woman, was weaponised by Owen Roe Mac Ward and turned into a poem about Mother Ireland. It has been widely sung by masses since the 18th century, unknowingly (or not) oppressing millions of women.

Well Tikki Troops, that was a lot to take in for part one, was it not? I decided split this blessay into parts because I did not want to overwhelm you all! The next blessay will cover 19th century poetry up today; despite covering a much shorter period, there are more poems that exist in its time frame. How will Irishwomen combat this Mother Ireland archetype — or will they at all? How will the most famous Irish poets, including Becket, Joyce, Heaney, Wilde and Yeats fit into this narrative? You’ll find out next time! But be patient with me as I try to perfect part two. :^)

Bibliography

Bourke, A. (2002) The Field Day Anthology of Irish Writing. NYU Press.

Cahill, S. E. (1983) ‘Reexamining the acquisition of sex roles: A social interactionist approach’, Sex Roles, 9(1), pp. 1–15. doi: 10.1007/BF00303105.

Collins, G. and Wickham, J. (2004) ‘Inclusion or Exploitation? Irish Women Enter the Labour Force’, Gender, Work & Organization, 11(1), pp. 26–46. doi: 10.1111/j.1468-0432.2004.00219.x.

Conroy, A. and Dickinson, T. (2018) ‘Male adolescent suicidality: a literature review’, Mental Health Practice, 21(8), pp. 50–55. doi: 10.7748/mhp.2018.e1293.

Crilly, A. (1991) Mother Ireland [Documentary Film]. Aired on Channel 4, U.K.

Hanlon, N. (2015) ‘The Role of Men in Gender Equality_Eire Report’. doi: 10.13140/RG.2.1.2011.5369.

History of the Potato (no date). Available at: https://www.potato.ie/history-of-the-potato/ (Accessed: 20 March 2020).

Joyce, M. (1961) ‘The Poets of Maigue’. The Capuchin Article.

McNeill, W. H. (1949) ‘The Introduction of the Potato into Ireland’, The Journal of Modern History, 21(3), pp. 218–222.

Meaney, G. (1991) Gerardine Meaney Sex and nation : Women in Irish Culture and Politics. ARTIC PRESS.

Morrison, T. G., Speakman, C. and Ryan, T. A. (2009) ‘Irish university students’ support for the human rights of lesbian women and gay men’, Journal of Homosexuality, 56(3), pp. 387–400. doi: 10.1080/00918360902728871.

Nicholson, T. (2016) A Biography of Story, A Brief History of Humanity. Troubador Publishing Ltd.

Owens, R. C. O. (1984) Smashing Times: The Irish women’s suffrage movement 1889-1922. ARTIC PRESS.

Patterson, R. A. (2015) ‘Women of Ireland: Change Toward Social and Political Equalityin the 21st Century Irish Republic’. Available at: https://web.archive.org/web/20151008154655/https://martindale.cc.lehigh.edu/sites/martindale.cc.lehigh.edu/files/Patterson.pdf (Accessed: 9 December 2019).

Stifter, D. (2016) ‘Metrical systems of Celtic traditions’, North-Western European Language Evolution 1983 & University Press of Southern Denmark, p. 58.

‘The Present Duty of Irishwomen: The Contribution of Irish Women as documented in the Archival Record’ (2016). Irish Archives Source.

It is an oft-overlooked fact that Ioseb Besarionis dze Jughashvili — Stalin's birth name — was a poet whose work commanded artistic respect. His poems — written in his native Georgian — were even featured in textbooks to be memorised by schoolchildren. These were not showpieces designed to propagate a cult of personality in the way Kim Jong-il's books1 were — they were published anonymously in his youth. When he found out that his NKVD lackey Lavrentiy Bertia secretly comissioned translations of them into Russian as a birthday present, he ordered the translators to stop work immediately. Perhaps he felt — arguably correctly — that these poems undermined his public persona by showing his sensitive, human, vulnerable side.

His poems truly do show a surprising fragility of spirit, and though some people might dismiss them as Romantic fluff, I think that they have a remarkable depth and that they can help us understand the person behind the myth. As they were written in Georgian — not one of the languages that I know — I was forced to read these poems in a variety of Russian translations, as well as the translations into English of Donald Rayfield and Vlad Osso, which I will be using in this blessay for the benefit of the reader. To avoid the difficulty of detailed cross-linguistic analysis, I will focus on the content, not form of the poems — though the reader should not assume technical ineptness based on translations, especially literal ones; this poetry is rhythmically sound and properly mellifluous in the original.

As an example of poetic prowess, we can look at the symbolic treatment of the moon in the ode To the Moon. It is given traits which we would normally associate with the sun, but also retains its own characteristic elements. Thus, its glow will "scatter the mist of the clouds" and its beams "play" in the sky; yet its darker aspects are still present — it will "sing a lullaby", because it brings night, not day; and the fact that it interacts with glaciers on a frozen mountaintop reinforces its own cold nature. It is "lovely" and joyful, but also dominating, as the speaker will "revere" it.2 It unites two opposite forces — it is the Yin and the Yang, the feminine and the masculine; its representation is, essentially, androgynous — one might even say polygendered.

The absolute reverence with which Stalin treats the moon, elevating it to an almost divine status, is only one example of religious themes in his poetry. In that same poem he includes this stanza:

Know for certain that once Struck down to the ground, an oppressed man Strives again to reach the pure mountain, When exalted by hope. 3

This is a clear allusion of Jesus's Sermon on the Mount, in which Christ teaches us: "Happy are those who are persecuted because they do what God requires; the Kingdom of heaven belongs to them!"4 Jesus is also symbolically the object of an untitled poem, in which a man goes "from house to house", telling "a truth profound, ... a lofty dream" but is executed with poison by people who tell him: "Your song is foreign to us,/We prefer to live in a lie!"5 This man is, if not Jesus himself, at the very least a Christ figure, and the Socratean hemlock cup brings the focus onto the kind of philosophical teachings addressed in To the Moon. Similarly, Old Ninika treats the decline of religion, symbolised by the aged man with a shepherd's crook, once powerful but now weak, whose state Stalin laments; yet the ending is optimistic, showing a religious hopefulness — in the closing line Ninika "smiles with relief".6 These poems show that Stalin was more religious than is often assumed.

It has already been noted that Stalin had homosexual tendencies,7 and it is difficult not to see queer aspects in his poetry. The fusing and merging of genders in To the Moon is one example, and the poem ends on a blatantly homosexual treatment of the moon as a phallic symbol which 'ejaculates' light, before which the speaker stands naked and submissive:

But I shall undo my vest And thrust out my chest to the moon, With outstreched arms, I shall revere The spreader of light upon the earth! 8

At a level separate from the religious interpretation, Old Ninika can be read as a representation of queer love suppressed by societal pressures, and there is more than a hint of homoerotic fascination in the lines:

Bare-chested, at the end on the cornfield He must have suddenly burst out with a roar. 9

and:

And on his face governed by dripping sweat Fire and smoke must have poured out. 10

The poem that Osso translates as Morning, on the other hand, shows a wishful longing for sexual liberation, with the symbolically queer, sexualised phallic flowers in the first stanza:

The bud has blossomed; now the rose Touches the tender violet. 11

and the birds in the second stanza, which symbolise freedom but also characterise the poem as a 'flight' of fancy:

The lark, signing its chirping hymn, Soars high above the clouds; 12

The acute reader will spot countless other instances of queer allusion in these poems.

Of course Stalin was a ruthless leader, whose wartime brutality and peacetime purges made him rightly infamous, and admiring his poetry in no way precludes condemning his actions. Neither should praise for his artistic work be in any way seen as an endorsement of his other 'achievements'. Still, his poems should be considered on their own merits, and they also constitute an important piece of evidence for understanding him. They can help us interpret other historical facts by shedding light on Stalin's hidden feelings and beliefs. It is a pity that other important figures so rarely leave poems behind, because there is truly nothing that can lay someone's soul bare before us more effectively than poetry.

Who allegedly wrote hundreds of them. ↩︎

All of these quotes are from To the Moon, translated by Donald Rayfield. ↩︎

ibid. ↩︎

Matthew 5:10, Good News New Testament, Today’s English Version. ↩︎

Quotes from [He knocked on strangers' doors], translated by Vlad Osso. ↩︎

Old Ninika, translated by Donald Rayfield. ↩︎

“Stalin’s Crude Side Laid Bare.” The Independent, 19 Dec. 2009, http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/stalins-crude-side-laid-bare-1845109.html. ↩︎

To the Moon, translated by Donald Rayfield. ↩︎

Old Ninika, translated by Donald Rayfield. ↩︎

ibid. ↩︎

Morning, translated by Vlad Osso. ↩︎