I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 52 I love you more than nature

Led by the servants, Mikhail soon met the owner of the mansion, a high-ranking general named Danilevsky. Not to mention his full name, this general's name can be considered long and ugly even among Russians.

When the already quite old general saw Mikhail and Turgenev, he came over and greeted them cordially. He knew Belinsky and often wanted to invite Belinsky to his house for dinner, so he naturally knew Mikhail, the young writer who had recently been highly praised by Belinsky.

After greeting Turgenev, whom he had met before, he looked at Mikhail cordially, patted him on the shoulder and said in a friendly manner:

"I've heard of your name a long time ago, young man. I didn't expect to see you here today. You're even more beautiful than I imagined. Where is your home? Maybe we've met somewhere before."

Good guy, asking about my family background right away?

"My family lives in another province, and I am currently studying at a university in St. Petersburg," Mikhail told the truth.

Oh? From out of town?
The general's face was a little less friendly.

Although he wanted to ask for more specific information, since this was their first meeting, the worldly-wise general naturally couldn't ask too many questions. So he just nodded gently and exchanged a few more words with the two of them, then led them to the living room.

To be honest, it was a good thing that the general didn't ask any further questions, otherwise he would have found out that Mikhail was not only a stinky outsider, but also a civilian intern from a poor family. If he had known that, the friendliness on his face would probably have been much less.

But now, when I arrived at the living room, there were already several people sitting there, who seemed to be some essayists and critics, and the one sitting among them seemed to be the general's daughter.

She looked to be about seventeen years old, wearing a white ball gown dotted with vines and moss patterns, shoulders covered as if by fresh snow, an expression as lively as a sika deer, and clear blue eyes.

As Turgenev said, she was very beautiful.

"Nadya, Nadya," the general called to his daughter, "guess who I've brought with me again? It's the author of those articles you've been telling me about lately."

Hearing her father's call, the girl jumped up from her chair, walked to Mikhail and Turgenev, and then looked at Mikhail with curiosity.

"Let me introduce you. This is my daughter. She's been very interested in your writing lately and keeps telling me about your novels. Perhaps you could discuss it."

After the general finished speaking, the girl, whose face had a very lively expression, nodded politely to Mikhail, and Mikhail smiled and bowed slightly.

After the introduction, the general said something and went to receive other guests. It seemed that there were some acquaintances of Turgenev at the party, so after saying something to Mikhail, Turgenev went to greet others.

As for Mikhail, he sat down for a while, listening to the writers and critics in front of him talking about art in a serious manner, chatting with the general's daughter, and bragging for a while.

As they were talking, someone naturally looked at Mikhail, the rising star in the St. Petersburg literary world, and said, shaking his head:

"Mr. Mikhail Romanovich, can I call you that? Can you please be fair? I feel that some of the things in your novel are too distorted, especially..."

Mikhail just smiled at such a gentleman. Apart from nodding occasionally, he didn't really listen to what the other party was saying. His eyes were more likely to glance uncontrollably at the dining area.

Mikhail didn't even eat much lunch for this party.

But it's really not easy to do it now. It's okay for those gentlemen who like to comment on art, but Mikhail doesn't know why, he always feels that the general's daughter looks at him from time to time, which makes Mikhail unable to take any action for a while.

Well, although I, Mikhail, am not a noble lord, I am indeed a respectable man.
He sat there for quite a while. Occasionally, a few well-dressed gentlemen or ladies would come up to Mikhail out of curiosity and chat with him for a few words.

Although they spoke authentic French from time to time, Mikhail was not bad now. So he followed the local customs and said a few words, followed by some meaningless greetings.

Although he was a little nervous, Mikhail appeared to be quite calm on the surface. He could chat with anyone who came. In the eyes of everyone, Mikhail's social skills were undoubtedly up to standard.

There were also some people who, although they were also interested in Mikhail, did not approach him to talk. Instead, they watched Mikhail from a distance and laughed from time to time, not knowing what was going on.

During this process, Mikhail could still feel the gaze of the general's daughter, which prevented him from doing what he wanted to do.

As time went on, Mikhail noticed that Tu Ge had naturally started to pretend to be cool, and recited his poems with great emotion under the gaze of many people.

It must be said that Tu Ge wrote good poems. He became famous in the cultural circles of St. Petersburg in his early years for his poetry. Let me give you an example of a love poem that Tu Ge wrote to win the favor of a certain lady: "To Ni Huo".

"Sleep above the earth,

The moon is floating among the light white clouds.

That magical moon,

The waves are shaking from the sky.

The sea of ​​my soul,
And regard you as its moon;
—It is also in joy and pain,

Of course, my brother Tu has the level of poetry, and even Pushkin’s famous love poem these days is “I once loved you,
Love, maybe

Not yet entirely dead in my soul,
I hope it won’t bother you anymore;
I don’t want to make you sad anymore.”

So when Turgenev finished reading his sad poem, people in the audience immediately applauded.

By the way, writing poems about nature and love is the most common these days and is more likely to be accepted by the authorities. Otherwise, it would be quite difficult to pass censorship.

After our Brother Tu finished pretending, he did not forget his good brother Mikhail. Instead, he took advantage of the good atmosphere and pulled Mikhail over. He then made a solemn introduction to him, allowing Mikhail to officially show his face in front of some so-called upper-class people.

At the end of the introduction, Turgenev also chose to believe in Mikhail's genius, so he said half seriously and half jokingly:
"This remarkable author told me the other day that he's done some research on poetry, and I'd really like to hear what it's like. Of course, I'd be even happier if he were willing to read his novels."

I mean I understand a little bit, okay, a little bit.
Since the atmosphere was already so tense, Mikhail could only be modest. Then, under the gaze of many people, he slowly began to read in a tone that was somewhat light, somewhat romantic, and slightly bitter:
"I love you more than nature,
Because you are like nature itself.

I love you more than freedom—

Without you, freedom is just a prison.

I love you so carelessly,

It's like loving an abyss, not a rut."

Is it so straightforward?
Turgenev on the side was slightly stunned.

And Mikhail continued:
"I love you more than is possible,
It's also more possible than impossible.

I love you tirelessly and infinitely,

Even though he was drunk and had been abused.

More than myself, to be exact,

Even more than just you.”

It seemed that because such light, romantic, and somewhat unusual poetry was relatively rare in Russia today, more people looked over and listened more attentively:
"I love you more than Shakespeare,
More beautiful than all the world's beauty,
Even more than the music of the world,
Because, you are books and music.

I love you more than honor,
More brilliant than the entire planet."

Throughout the entire process of reciting the poem, Mikhail still felt that there was a pair of eyes surrounding him. Although he had been avoiding this gaze, it was not easy for him to look around while reciting the poem. So when the emotional concentration of the poem reached its peak, as some people adjusted their positions, Mikhail's eyes inevitably collided with those clear blue eyes.

He read out the last paragraph:
"I love you as I love Russia,
Because, Motherland - that's you.

Are you miserable? Are you praying for mercy?

Please don't anger God by begging.

I love you more than happiness.

I love you more than love."

There is quite a lot written in these two chapters. I originally planned to split them up, but for the sake of completeness, I will leave it as it is.

To be honest, poetry is the thing that suffers the most loss in the translation process. Without the language, it often loses its vitality. Therefore, it is indeed not easy to feel the beauty of many foreign poems.

In short, it is better to copy poems occasionally, unless they are particularly suitable. Otherwise, it is better to copy less. After all, if you cannot feel the beauty of the work itself, no matter how much you praise it, you will not be able to convince others.

I like this song very much. I think there is no threshold to it. After reading it several times, I feel like my heart has softened.

Then, in order to get on the new book list, the chapter on Monday will most likely be released at midnight. I also beg you to read it on Monday and cast a wave of monthly tickets. If you are willing to reward, please give some.

There are too many big bosses above me, and the subject matter of this book is a bit niche. I feel like I am being suppressed by the big bosses above me (crying)
I still want to go further. Those who have monthly tickets can vote for this book on Monday. I will be very grateful.

I also ask you to read more. Next week is the most important week. Whether we can go further depends on next week.

Thank you all.

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(End of this chapter)