I Am Nailed To The Bar With Liquor

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This track is Marty reading the poem "I Am Nailed To A Bar With Liquor" by Alexander Blok.

I Am Nailed To A Bar With Liquor
by Alexander Blok

I am nailed to a bar with liquor
Been drunk all day. So what! I've lost
my happiness—gone in a troika
careering into silver mist

It flies on a troika, vanishing
in centuries, the snow of time...
Only the soul is drowning, sinking
under the horseshoes' silver streams.

Their sparks into the darkness flutter;
all night, all night the sparks blaze on...
and bells on the shaft-bow mutter
that happiness has come and gone.

And only the golden harness
can be seen all night, heard all night...
and you, soul... deaf soul... are hopelessly drunk,
dead drunk, hopelessly tight.

26 October 1908

Notes

"The troika image (see also his poem 'Russia') inevitably evokes for Russian readers Gogol's vision of Russia as a galloping troika. Blok developed this theme in 1908 in a memorable paper about the intelligentsia and the people, where he sees the intellectual and governing elite of Russia as overshadowed by the rapidly looming troika of the real Russia (the 150 millions)."

From The Twelve and Other Poems,
translated from Russian by Jon Stallworthy and Peter France.
New York, Oxford University Press, 1970.


"Of dissipated gypsiness is born Blok's famous masterpiece:

    Ja prigvozdën k traktirnoj stojke.
    Ja p'jan davno. Mne vsë—ravno.
    Von scastie moë na trojke
    V srebristyj dym uneseno. . . .

    I am nailed to the tavern bar
    I've long been drunk.. So what!
    Gone my happiness on a troika,
    Carried away in silvery smoke. . . .

"In the muted melody both words and rhythms are intoxicated. We sense the severe hangover, the thick tongue, the halts, the repetitions, and the obtrusive images. Everything is in fog ('silvery smoke,' 'silvery haze,' 'dense darkness'). The troika speeds along, the bell rings, everything is like a dream: sparks in the darkness, the golden harness. Vague images, distant sounds--what are they speaking of? Of this: happiness flew away on a troika, sunk in snow. And this: happiness 'scatters sparks' and the bell babbles about happiness:

    The bell on the shaft-bow babbles
    That happiness is gone. . . .

"The last verse, with the lines cut in two by a complete pause, with the meaningless repetitions and low howling of Y and A (ty:dusa, p'janym:p'jana), is simply terrifying:"

    I tol'ko sbruja zolotaja
    Vsju noc' vidna . . . vsju noc' slysna . . .
    A ty, dusa . . . dusa gluxaja . . .
    P'janym-p'jana . . . p'janym-p'jana. . . .

    And only the golden harness
    Is visible all night . . . Audible all night . . .
    And you, soul . . . deaf soul . . .
    Dead drunk . . . dead drunk. . . .

From Aleksandr Blok by Konstantin Mochulsky,
translated from Russian by Doris V. Johnson.