L'Esprit Nouveau Those who were in my good old office in the management of science policy, they will remember that the fading aura of the classics that you looked at the pictures hung on the its walls. Pussenovskie scenery, ruins of Rome and a large shaded portrait of a lady in the classic wide-brimmed hat with a plume. And how fond of saying they know character, which also went into one room: "And who are all hurt."
But now, obzhivaya my new home on the balcony over the atrium, I decided that my old aesthetics does not return, and should go to something different. Not so long ago (though too long ago) I was at New Year in Paris - and came across a museum exhibition of paintings at the Orangerie Marie Laurence. Since then, when I wanted to pass for esthete, and asked me what I most love in art, I replied: "Marie Laurence." And now I ordered one of its reproduction and made it her artistic center of the room that looks straight at you from the perspective of a big wall right of the entrance. Painting - Here this:
And for those who did not know about Marie Laurence, she - a student and friend of Picasso, Apollinaire in the same pre-war Paris where the Impressionists have ended, and "Russian Seasons" Diaghilev and "Holiday, who is always with you," Hemingway had not yet begun. And when "L'Esprit Nouveau", the famous artistic Apollinaire's manifesto, just matured in his love and the scandals with Marie Laurence. Here are a couple of his poems to feel the era:
Santabaremsky monk
Dressed in a black cassock,
pale hands stretched out, calling Lilith.
Orlan stillness of the night
; shouted ominously three раза
И воскликнул монах "Летит она! Вижу, летит!
А за нею три ангела ... "
- Здесь обрывается книга, которую черви изъели,
and stands before me, the night is
With the waning moon;
On Byzantine emperors, I think,
then before me
; There is an altar in a cloud of incense,
And roses Levant mereschatsya me,
And the eyes of diamond toads, burn, gleam in the darkness,
And I think about magical book,
the worm izeli;
Alchemist, I see,
I see a monk in an abandoned cell,
And I fall into a dream, and the dawn of amethyst is lit,
И не знаю сам почему,
Я думаю о бородатых уродах, о великанах, о тайне
Lilith,
represented and I shudder;
; I heard in the room rustle,
Like silk rustling in the darkness. **
Wretch, once I podglyadel secretly,
as Linda in the mirror admiring himself.
And here I am captivated by a beautiful double -
traitor to me opened this prank.
I first thought that there was no her equal, but
me a mirror at that moment all eyes have been opened;
And my heart trembled me, the temptation
person that now I'm too nice.
Since then, I'm trying to compare without end ,
hardly want her to peer into the mirror,
two coveted, two young person ,
But choose I can not - do not have the courage of the heart.
Yes, I am in doubt tell myself: answer,
Surely a copy of a mile of the original?
I see that it is ready to die,
; To make things even come on her sister appeared.
I'm simply captivated by the magic counterpart,
of all this precision, is almost unbearable,
of all this liveliness and falsehoods, moreover,
And every line, painfully beautiful!
But life is not given to melt the ice mirrors,
Everything freezes in it - and a mirror without a measure
; not fooled again who believed,
What loves a woman, but he was in captivity chimeras .
** Mademoiselle Yvonne M.
Сосредоточена и несколько бледна,
Yvonne with brush sits by the window
and paint in cups scattered way.
She artist now. She decides,
What to choose the master of seven-parent years.
not make a portrait of today? But the portrait
And long draw, and it is necessary that similar.
Zverenka maybe? But with darkness, too.
And everything that moves, leaving for later
Yvonne thinks and chooses the house -
AND hour razumnitsa conjures over cardboard.
painting is finished - that's a house on the green,
AND serene than bright children's eyes,
his neighborhood, but there, on the ocher hills
And the blood of tiles, such passion in the sky,
solid cinnabar and perpetual bad weather.
I, too, silly, it was not seven,
I, too, in curls like you played with kids
; And the wind vyzvezdiv balloons,
portrayed at home in the green panorama,
But the sky, my dear, when I was six,
Я синим-синим рисовал - таким как есть. **
Kolechko strands temnorusoy
happened in the memory to find
Almost not believing remember sad
; Two unsolved way
Montmartre morning gave
; Boulevard Chapelle and your quarter
Do you remember the hair whispered
As we were first расплетал
Упала прядь воспоминаний
burned as a fall on the fly
; And a strange way still lay on hazy sunset and the darkness
**
Подруга я думаю о тебе
О твоей солнечной коже о твоем благородном
grace
house was empty since that time as my sunbeam
sunk in the sea
And if you meet the submarines
; Tell them that I love you
When the clouds start clouding the sky
Tell them that I adore
If the storm unleash her anger on the coastal rock
Tell her that you're my pure diamond
If a grain of sand on the beach flash among thousands
песчинок
Ты ей скажи что из всех драгоценных камней
only you I love
When you see the postman
; Ты ему расскажи с каким нетерпеньем я жду
your letters
I am sending you a thousand kisses and caresses thousands
And let them rush you as seeking
words to the antenna of wireless Telegraph
If you meet the wounded
; Tell them you hurt me in the heart
If you think you sometimes think about how it that
always my thoughts are with you
And I adore you Come to visit , look!
course, since it freezes, subtly change the clothing X ° D