Ara sat down to speak to the country’s repression officer. Però res de les repressions experienced by those who speak a vui te gaire a veure amb la que va patir sota el règim soviètic els dissidents, els intellectuals and oddly enough els poetes – who always speak en veu baixa – more than quasi no.
Such will be the case of Joseph Brodsky (1940-1996), one of the greatest poets of the 20th century in Russian and Anglesa, who was born in Saint Petersburg when he was from Leningrad (“Leninstadt” in Russian) and died l’ exili de Nova York l’any 1996. Once the reader is allowed to speak in the first person, I will say that the poet will dedicate two or three books to him, starting with a seva stay in Barcelona, after winning the Nobel Prize in Literature When he returned, he wrote in one of the qualifications: “For Jordi Llovet, in this city where so much has been lost” (“…en aquesta ciutat on tant es va perdre”). It refers to the Spanish Civil War and the last Malaguanyat for Catalonia and for all of Spain, not ho oblidéssim.
Brodsky will always write Gairebé in Rus, he realizes that he will write a poem in English and he will translate a good part of the second work into that language. The one who transitions to the Russian language, according to our understanding, is one of the four greats of the century, along with Tsvetàieva, Akhmàtova and Mandelstam: in this case there is an almost undeniable equality of the sexes. The literary critics who have carefully studied the second work believe that the secret of Brodsky’s poetic beauty is the troba in prosòdia, worth noting the euphony and the musicality of the verses, the phrases and the periods: això que costa tant de trobar in Catalan prosa d’aquests moments.
Brodsky was a jueu poet, i això is not cap bagatel·la. A cultivated jueu, as was the seu cas, has a relationship with the llenguatge, which is not troba in the Gaires religions: Judaism is a religion of libre and paraula – it is better that the verb is faci logos, that not carn—; and the seva associated with language, not only Hebrew but also that which follows it, is spiritual (not ideological), respect, worship and caring.
He wrote verse and some prose, always poetic, like that of Baudelaire, which is troben al libre L’spleen de paris. The Soviet regime, more troubled than the Angels of the Abyss of Sant Climent de Taüll (MNAC), but with perverse intentions, would from the start look on suspiciously when Brodsky, if he could, published a poem or two in a literary journal. They will not accuse him of being a “parasite,” nor will they think that Gaire is exiling him to Siberia and sentenced to five years of hard labor. The bons oficis of Kornei Txukovski, of the composer Dmitri Xostakòvitx – another victim of critical torture -, of Ievgueni Ievtuxenko – that was força llegit a Catalunya fa thirty or quaranta anys – and of Jean-Paul Sartre these will reach només hi passés un any. Llavors the poet will exercise great discretion towards the Soviet authorities and in 1972, after the writer has become a poet of international renown, they will allow him to leave the country.
El nostre llibre d’avui, Joseph Brodsky, En una habitació i mitja, extraordinary translation by Xavier Pàmies (Numbered Days, Barcelona, 2022), in which he speaks of the serious misadventures during the long stay in Russia, by the stretors, those of experienced homes and gifts, sensitive to the value of the intellect trodden by a totalitarian ideology and systematic oppression, and to the moral humiliation experienced under a dictatorship by every human being of an open concept of freedom.
Els Brodsky will have Sorte, Només in Petita Measure. According to them, a family of parents, a mother and a sun fill the Hauria estate, which has defined a living space of 27 square meters; but since they will play viure in a building with unchangeable main walls, they will play 40. The toilet, bathroom and kitchen are shared. Yes, as Estates Units, Brodsky will no longer travel to Russia, no matter how alone burying the parent and mother; and even more rarely they will not be able to visit America. See here the traces of an oppression of Debò and an annihilation of dignity common to all dictatorships.
All llbre, always with an age-old moral elegance, the author recalls the seu pare amb el vestit de ofciali de l’exèrcit—“In Russia, the military don’t dress much like civilians, no matter how alone at home”—the black one Cloth “with the Atzabeja, both because of the daurat button holders that can imagine an avenue into the night” – and the imposing wardrobe in which it is disappointing to store the sewing of the house in a young Noi room: roba, Hair clips, joguines, photographs, bicycle, mantes i llençols.
I tot el llibre breathes this idea of the right llibertat dels illustrats and idealistic philosophy: malgrat tants inconvenients, malgrat the spiritual and moral misery breathed in the Russia of the seu temps, in this “space and half” lived the joy, hope and Freedom.