TOWARD THE TORMENT OF WHICH HE WILL NEVER KNOW THE END.
A FACE THAT TOILS SO CLOSE TO STONES IS ALREADY STONE ITSELF! I SEE THAT MAN GOING BACK DOWN WITH A HEAVY YET MEASURED STEP
A B S U R D N O S T
Vladislav Khodasevich in his poem “In Front of the Mirror, Halfway Through Life’s Journey”, reflects on what his life has been all about till that point. He’s reluctant to believe that the person he sees in the mirror is himself. He wonders what is the point of it all? Does anything matters? Where is his vitality and will to live? Is it all in the past when he was young and unaware?.
“In Front of the Mirror”, 1924
T H O U G H T F U L
R E F L E C T I O N S
Vladislav Khodasevich, 1924
“I, I, I. What a wild, elusive word! Is that man over there really me? Did mama really love someone like that? With a pasty yellow face, half grey hair, And all-knowing, like a snake?�
A B S U R D N O S T
ПЕРЕД ЗЕРКАЛОМ Nel Mezzo del Cammin di Nostra Vita. Я, я, я. Что за дикое слово! Неужели вон тот — это я? Разве мама любила такого, Желто-серого, полуседого И всезнающего как змея? Разве мальчик, в Останкине летом Танцевавший на дачный балах,— Это я, тот, кто каждым ответом Желторотым внушает поэтам Отвращение, злобу и страх? Разве тот, кто в полночные споры Всю мальчишечью вкаладывал прыть,— Это я, тот же самый, который На трагические разговоры Научился молчать и шутить? Впрочем — так и всегда на средине Рокового земного пути: От ничтожной причины — к причине, А глядишь — заплутался в пустыне, И своих же следов не найти. Да, меня не пантера прыжками На парижский чердак загнала. И Виргилия нет за плечами,— Только есть Одиночество — в раме Говорящего правду стекла. 18–23 июля 1924
T H O U G H T F U L
R E F L E C T I O N S
IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR Halfway Through Life’s Journey I, I, I. What a wild, elusive word! Is that man over there really me? Did mama really love someone like that? With a pasty yellow face, half grey hair, And all-knowing, like a snake? The boy who danced at parties At summer houses in Ostankino— Is that me? The one whose every remark To a freshly hatched poet Induces revulsion, malice and fear? The one who laid his entire boyish energy Into late night arguments— Is that me? The very same one who Has learned to keep quiet or make jokes When talk turns to tragedy? And still—it’s always like this halfway Along this earth’s fateful path: From one insignificant cause to another, And look—you’re lost in the wilderness, And can’t find your own tracks. Yes, it was not a panther that drove me with leaps to this Paris attic. And Virgil is not at my shoulder. There is only Loneliness—framed In the looking glass, speaking the truth. July 18–23, 1924, Paris
A B S U R D N O S T
When people have gain a substantial amount of experience in their lives, is common to experience a middle life crisis. After completing many milestones such as high-school, college and landing a job among other things. After going from desire to achievement, from expectations to reality, in quite moments with nothing to distract us, life may reveal itself as pointless. It feels repetitive, monotonous and we feel lost and clueless. “Absurdnost�, stands for absurdness in Russian. The use of this word on the production of this vodka comes as a response to the poem and the feelings it portrays.
For Algerian and French philosopher Albert Camus, The Absurd, refers to the human need to find meaning in life while the universe remains silent and indifferent. Instead of giving up on life, Albert encourages embracing The Absurd, rebelling to one’s own futility, finding meaning of our own life with everything we have. A rich, fully engaged life, a life worth losing.
T H O U G H T F U L
R E F L E C T I O N S
Albert Camus, 1957
“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.�
Once you realize life itself is absurd, dispair feels the only possible reaction to have, but also, it should prompt us to live more intensively. Don’t wait for the afterlife, it distracts from the present, no higher purpose, no purer state, be a champion of the ordinary, and see the grandiose of the common.
...Live