[*All the notes are below the main text.]

          How clever were those words of that perspicacious modern literarien, who said once that the true art of poesy survives but on the branches[*1]. Oh, how annoying this kind of eternal truth can be seem sometimes for a good number of those revolutionary experimentalists, who try to argue with their art “against the provenance”! – oh, how miraculous afterwards is going to be seen that inescapable metamorphose, which, as long they stays the poets and artist in their honest hearts, will happen to each one of them! To all their intellectual and esthetic protests and revolts, they will be reminded of their own words with one of those geniously-exhorcized shades, who consequently will show not any different but…a noble sympathy to the newly-coming state of whole-dreamt, whole-varied harmony.  
Читать далее →