University of Virginia Library

Yevtushenko: Za Zdorovye CCCP!

By DAVID FOSTER

"If I see one woman on the
street which is attacked by
some bastards who try to force
her—if at the same time I will
just walk on other side of
street only to observe the stars,
thinking about eternity, I feel
myself as a bastard."

Therein is summarized the
philosophy of celebrated
Russian poet Yevgeny
Yevtushenko, scheduled to give
a reading this Monday,
February 21, at 8 p.m. in
Cabell Hall Auditorium
Unfortunately only 1000 seats
will be reserved inside the
auditorium, so the University
Union urges those interested in
attending to pick up their
tickets in advance—at $2.00
each—at the Main Desk in
Newcomb Hall.

As has been his customary
format, Mr. Yevtushenko will
be reading his work in Russian,
following a performance of the
English translation by Mr.
Barry Boys, the British actor—a
style which recently attracted
10,000 listeners to New York's
Felt Forum, and just three
weeks ago drew an audience of
4,000 to the University of
South Carolina, which is
suspected of establishing some
sort of record in the Southeast
for a poetry reading.

The attraction apparently
lies within Mr. Yevtushenko
affinity for realistic and topical
subjects, a reflection of a
tradition of Russian poets from
Mayakovsky and Pushkin to
Yesenin. As James Dickey
noted in his introduction of
Yevtushenko at South

Carolina, "What makes him so
valuable to us is his
extraordinary sensitivity to the
impression of the moment and
his determination to, well, tell
it like it is. He transmutes
almost every experience into
poetry, in an instantaneous and
instinctive process."

Yevtushenko, too—though
quick to point out his mission
in the United States as that of
"a poet, not a
politician"—readily admits, in
the best English he can muster,
a propensity for publishing
newspapers: "It is the duty of
the poet to write about topical
things."

Mr. Yevtushenko Russian
debut too could be inscribed as
something of an opening night
sensation. Despite having his
poetry published at age 17,
"Zhenya," as he is referred to
by his closer acquaintances,
remained a relative unknown
throughout the cultural
stagnation of the Stalin era; it
wasn't, in fact, until a "Day of
Poetry" organized in 1956 by
several of Russia's young poets
that he first attracted any
significant attention.

"At first we held readings in
bookstores in the hope of
selling more poetry. I
remember once I began to
recite my poetry inside a
bookstore—a bigger store than
your Doubleday's here—but
people pushed me into the
street, put me on the fire
escape of the bookstore and I
recited my poetry from there.

Then we organized a big
reading of poetry in
Mayakovsky Square. It was a
great scene, a dramatic scene,
because Mayakovsky was the
first reciter of poetry. You
cannot imagine what happened
during this reading. There must
have been 25 or 30 thousand
people in the square. Traffic
was stopped completely, and
when I finished, people tried to
pick me up on their shoulders
to carry me to Pushkin's
Monument to read more
poetry."

That Mr. Yevtushenko will
find himself carried of to the
Rotunda in triumph Monday
night cannot, of course, be
promised; a $2 ticket would
appear a much safer
proposition. And for those
who find themselves without
tickets, remote speakers will
broadcast the reading to the
lobby, where standing room
will be available without
charge.