by Lina Buividavičiūtė
Translated by Agnieška Leščinska

Tomas Venclova. Už Onos ir Bernardinų (Beyond St. Anne’s and the Bernardines). Vilnius: Apostrofa, 2023.

Tomas Venclova is a renowned Lithuanian poet, translator, and scholar. I approach his poetry with caution and respect, as he is a poet whose work encompasses multiple layers of meaning, reflects intellectual and emotional depth, and showcases masterful linguistic skills. I was in awe after reading his newest book Už Onos ir Bernardinų (Beyond St. Anne’s and the Bernardines), which is rich with beauty and sorrow, loss and hope, reminiscences, and a future that will inevitably come, but perhaps not for us. The collection contains thirty-one poems that explore cities and inner territories, the world and its people, and us and language as well as the pains of history and testimonies of generations.

The first point I wish to highlight for the assumed foreign reader is the title of the book. When Venclova accepted the 2024 Lithuanian Writers’ Union Prize for this poetry collection, he remarked that “the poem speaks of the road to the Three Crosses and other hills, from which one can see the most beautiful views of Vilnius – the views he remembers from his childhood.”^[1] As literary scholar Mindaugas Kvietkauskas also notes, Venclova associates urban spaces with his personal history. However, Venclova’s work transcends individual impressions. This collection delves into history itself, features people he finds significant, describes portraits of generations, and reveals the fundamental laws of existence.

One of the most striking features of the collection is the interplay between the city, its architecture, and the natural world. In Venclova’s work, this relationship is depicted as organic and integral, like “an art deco ornament in the gaps of branches” (p. 20). A standout element from the natural background is the abundance of water imagery, which includes a harbor, a foaming river, “dugouts, cutters, grimy sails,” a stream pool, a foam line, a tide, a confluence of rivers, rapids, the sea, a quay, and “an underwater staircase to Neptune’s realm,” among other examples. This archetypal element, often used in mythology, connotes life and decay, the fluidity and uncertainty of time, salvation and damnation. As Mircea Eliade’s analysis and interpretations suggest, water symbolizes both protection and peril. It is the chemistry of our bodies and the planet, embodying memory and oblivion. Water is a necessary condition for the creation of civilizations and cultures, a motif extensively explored in religion and mythology.

The main leitmotifs of the book revolve around life, preservation, fragility, and death. In this book, I noticed the lyrical subject’s reflections on his own and his generation’s limited time as well as on death in general. People, nations, civilizations, cultures, myths, and even gods and heroes die when they are no longer believed in. The “temporary but eternal absence” (p. 14) and the possibility of dying and being reborn may give hope, but in the poem “Argonauto mirtis” (“The Death of the Argonaut”), Jason returns to a land he no longer recognizes, “where no one remembered his ship” (p. 13), and the ancient centaurs of the valley are replaced by a “slow and sleepy city” (p. 13). This implies that eternal change is inevitable, and if we return here again, we will return different because our “descendants are different again” (p. 12). What possibilities of eternity are available to humanity? The subject of Venclova’s poems distinguishes between memory, language, and a fundamental mystery that can only be discovered by crossing a fateful line: “Preserved only in memory, they will live on as long as a few contemporaries live on, / who are no longer many. / Have you asked yourself many times if there is a different kind of space where those sounds / never go away? Well, you’ll soon find out” (“Sostinės pakraštyje” [“On the Edge of the Capital”], p. 11). “Outside the house, where you’re just a guest, / there’s a cosmos that accumulates death. / Maybe I’ll pause for a moment its crossing. / With the keys heavy in your hand, / you’ll remember me in the dark” (p. 17).

Another important feature of the collection is its wide geographical scope and significant historical testimonies. From personal impressions to collective experiences, the book covers early postwar childhood, Joseph Brodsky’s departure for emigration, and the city of Vyborg taken from the Finns by the USSR. It also includes the shocking inscription on the gate of a Nazi concentration camp (“Jedem das Seine” – “To each what he deserves”), the lake Czesław Miłosz crossed, a poem inspired by the story of Marcus Aurelius, and the battles and war in Ukraine. Venclova skillfully draws on historical material in a creative and authentic way, transforming it into a compelling and effective text.

Aside from those mentioned earlier, two poems in the book resonated deeply with me: “Negimtajai kalbai” (“For the Unborn Language”) and “Jobo knyga. Epilogas” (“The Book of Job. Epilogue”). The first poem explores Venclova’s own struggle and complex relationship with the Russian language, portraying a confrontation with words spoken by cruel occupiers, as “the sentences are poisoned by human” (p. 90). Despite this, the poem raises the question of whether a few righteous individuals can prevent the eradication of a language from our collective consciousness.

In the latter poem, the biblical intertextual references are enriched with profound meanings – words like “believe” and “endure” that were crucial to Job and now poignant for war-torn nations. Yet, even after surviving and overcoming trials, sometimes all that remains are “fragments and ashes,” for what has been taken cannot be restored.

Venclova’s intellectual and intertextual poems are enriched by accompanying commentaries that significantly expand their layers of meaning.

In conclusion, I echo the insight of literary scholar Donata Mitaitė, who aptly describes the dominant mood of the book as “elegiac stoicism,”^[2] a sentiment with which I wholeheartedly agree.

With its unique linguistic approaches and topical themes, this poetry collection deserves the attention of every discerning reader.

1. Also see: Mindaugas Kvietkauskas. Tarp konstantų ir nežinomybės (literaturairmenas.lt)

2. Also see: Donata Mitaitė. „Ką darysi, kalbėki. Nes nieko tikresnio nebūna“ – žurnalas „metai“ (zurnalasmetai.lt)