-
To His Beloved Self the Author DedicatesThese Lines
- Northwestern University Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
To His Beloved Self the Author Dedicates These Lines Six words. Heavy as hammer blows. “Caesar’s unto Caesar, God’s unto God.” But where is someone like me to go? Where has a lair been prepared for me? If only I were small, like the Pacific Ocean— I’d stand on the waves’ tiptoes, snuggle up to the moon on the tide. Where am I to find a beloved, one who’s like me? She wouldn’t fit in the tiny sky! If only I were poor! Like a billionaire! What’s money to the soul? She’s got an insatiable thief inside. For the unbridled horde of my desires all the gold of all the Californias wouldn’t suffice. Oh, to be tongue-tied like Dante or Petrarch! To light my soul ablaze for one woman! To order it to smolder away in verse! My words the early years ✦ 63 64 ✦ vladimir mayakovsky and my love would be a triumphal arch: through it the mistresses of all the ages would pass, pass with great pomp—and without a trace. Oh, if only I were quiet, like thunder, I’d whimper and wrack the earth’s decrepit cloister with tremors. If with all my might I howled out in full voice— comets would wring their burning hands and hurl themselves down in anguish. I’d devour nights with the rays of my eyes— oh, if only I were dim like the sun! That’s the last thing I need— to slake with my shining the earth’s emaciated little bosom! I’ll move on, dragging my enormous love. In what night, what delirious, ailing night, and by what Goliaths was I conceived— so big and so useless? 1916 ...