This is a somewhat belated Aleksandr Scriabin birthday post, expressing my gratitute for all those rewarding experiences with his music, and excitement to take part in a conference in Reading later this year in honour of his 150th anniversary. More news to follow! For now, here’s Konstantin Balmont‘s 1925 poem Zvukovoy zazïv (Call of Sound):
He felt through symphonies of light.
He appealed to fuse into one floating temple –
Touches, sounds, incense,
And processions, with dances as a sign,
The whole sunshine, the fire of flowers and summer,
The whole lunar prophecy through the stars,
Thunders here, and a small splutter there,
The banter of a musical sunrise.
Waking up in heaven while dreaming on earth.
Spreading whirlwinds of sparks in pierced dust,
In the fire of sacrifice he was tireless.
And he danced in a fervent funnel,
Until he woke to death with twinkle on his face,
The insane elf, the invocation, the ringing Scriabin.