84 - Konstantin Dmitrievich BALMONT, also known as Don (1867–1942)

Konstantin Dmitrievich BALMONT, also known as Don (1867–1942) Set of 1 L.S. and 9 C.A.S. addressed to Jurgis Kasimirovich BALTRUCHAITIS (1873–1944), dated 1908, in Russian, including: -1 I 1908 "It’s as if, in Soulac, I could see you by the North Sea. I long for the words of your soul. A lunar greeting forever. The piper." "I would like to be the last among the first leaders I would hold the stirrup for God, seeing the hosts of stars above us I would serve, like a slave, those in whom all freedom lies I would flare up, drop by drop, in the expanse of the sky. As if in Sulak, I see you by the Northern Sea. I long for the words of your soul. A lunar greeting for all time. The Piper." -March 5, 1908 There is talk of sending the work “Gjengangere” to a certain Tourbine for publication. "Jurgis, I will contact Tourbine immediately, as I have decided to give him *Gjengangere*, but I ask that you first let me know how much he can offer and how many copies he plans to print. If he does not receive my letter, please pass this on. Best regards, K. Balmont.” August 8, 1908, Brittany, La Baule He asks what Jurgis has translated from Gamsun and what he has included in the *Nord* anthology so that he does not have to redo the same translations himself. For several months now, ever since he left “Iksel,” he has been living in constant anguish, day and night, in an unrelenting state of anxiety, with a feeling of emptiness. (...) “Here the sea is calm, less lively and less beautiful than in the Balearic Islands or at Soulac. Pine trees, sand. (...) I catch myself realizing that my soul is indifferent even to the sea.” “Jurgis, I received your two lovely letters. Once again I feel the old you, the one I loved to sense as unchanging and mine from afar—in Primel and in Soulac, in Christiania and in Islam. A seaside greeting to you and to your eyes—may they see your paths clearly, and may they see the one and those who love you. No, we won’t see each other in Scandinavia; I have no way of getting there. I’m in the same predicament as you. And, ironically, just as you’ve finished your volume of Hamsun and your *Northern Anthology*, I’m beginning my own works of the same kind. By the way, be sure to write to me and tell me exactly what you translated from Hamsun and what you included in the *Northern Anthology*. So we don’t end up with the same material. These past few months, since leaving Iksel, I’ve been in a constant state of anguish—an unchanging, daily, nightly anguish and desolation. I’ve written a lot. I’ve prepared a small volume of Lerberg’s work and a small volume of *Spanish Songs*. I’ve written several essays on folklore—*The Transformation of the Sacrifice*, *Mexican Symbolism*, and so on. I’m not writing any poetry at all. In mid-September, Estrella and I will meet up in Vienna or Paris. We’re thinking of going to Italy for a few months. Write to me about where we can find inexpensive lodging in Florence or nearby. Please also pass along letters to your acquaintances. And any other advice that comes to mind. (...) Here the sea is calm, less lively and beautiful than off the Balearic coast or in Sulak. Pine trees, sand. (...) I am surprised to find indifference in my soul, even toward the sea. Not a single day, not a single hour yet, in the entire month, have I felt that reverence for the sea that I considered my defining trait. And often—all too often—I long, I would long, silently, painlessly, wordlessly, to leave planet Earth entirely. If such a moment were to come even now, when from me