Memory of Grigory Dashevsky

Love that has lost the addressee

Elena Fanailova

“Such a king! Like a light Apollo "
Shakespeare, "Hamlet"

In his ears his voice, on the monitor, the video with him, however, is in his head and so much video: in the summer in a cafe (bird beaks knocking on coffee saucers); In winter, in his house, in a small office (piles of books lie everywhere, including on the floor and on the windowsill); On the recording of programs - about stupidity, as Pastor Dietrich Bonheffer, or melancholy, as ancient Roman poets and Chinese officials understood it in the fascist concentration camp. In the summer, he went to the center by taxi, in winter he practically did not go out due to illness. He cursed if in a cafe where we made notes with him for Radio Liberty, there were no ramps and comfortable stairs for him, one -legged, on crutches, and people like him. “So tell your friends: for whom did they make the club? For self -confident healthy boobs? "

Not death, Zarem, but not apart. Tell me not, tell me yes, now or never.

Grisha caused such a feeling of strong, even, constant love for everyone who knew him, for women and men, which is now completely incomprehensible how to reconcile - either with his departure, or with love that lost the addressee.

Courage, boyishness, childhood, resistance, impeccable sense of humor, turning trifles into verbal holidays, supersensitivity, turning to the better in the interlocutor, independence and paradoxes of the mind, the ability to say that not everyone from a close circle is disposed of. At the same time, complete balance in articles and public discussions; Judges that could distort harmony were completely excluded. He was a magnificent polemicist, it was really clear with him how far the speech could start the poet, what the work of the human mind is in all his beauty.

A sophisticated, incredibly sophisticated and passionate poet, ironic and infinitely bold, strong and thin, going to the zones of mental suffering and linguistic fainting. A working, responsible, virtuoso translator. Crystally pure, clear, smart person. Inhumanly patient.

Evil could not be near him, he could not touch him, he stopped such an opportunity with his presence.

He was brilliant, magnificent, unique. He was a man of a huge humanitarian scale. This scale has yet to be fixed by historians of literature. Such - endlessly wise and endowed with great knowledge - are older. But Grisha did not want to be the eldest, he wanted to be a peer and a contemporary, an interlocutor, a friend, son, brother and lover; Modern life was terribly interested in him. His disability was the subject of his self -knowledge and criticism of the social structure in this zone; He stopped working only when he could not write physically and earned a living by literary work. His illness and relationship with her, conscious work with her allowed him to clearly see the human soul, the souls of others, and they were important to him no less of his own; This is not an evangelical metaphor, he was a real practitioner of a Christian. His educational passion was expressed both in the selection of literature and philosophy translated by him, and in the books that he selected for the column in the "Kommersant", and in how he talked about them. "Kommersantovsky" book "List of Dashevsky" is a list of a brilliant European intellectual, a person of modernism and freedom. He was naturally and culturally anti -Tutaline. In the most consistent way, he defended the freedom of a private person in a non -free world. In these dark Russian times, many without him will become even darker.

Inner person, or phenomenon of gaze

Boris Dubin

The pain of loss and a feeling of glaring injustice, with which it is not clear what to do and what to do before, is not so sudden, but still with a razor news of the untimely death of the younger counterpart, nor on the iot are not moderate by the same sharp, undeniable sense of the rare viability and dignity of the poet, translator, our deeply thinking contemporary Grigory Dashevsky. They are not dead, but strangely correlate with each other. As if its fragility and its size suddenly appeared (or always?) The necessary, indissoluble, mutual intensifying aspects of his individuality, words, thoughts, and moral appearance.

He was serious, vibrant, even meticulous in translation, magazine, newspaper work and at the same time amazingly light in singing, with lips and ups, conversation somewhere on the windowsill in the Index or O.G.I.. Basic in the root knowledge of the philologist and Latinist teacher, the translator of the most complicated in ideas and material, saturated with erudition and paradoxes of texts of the twentieth century (Hannah Arendt and Francis Yates, Karl Bart and Rene Girard, Vladimir Nabokov and Joseph Brodsky), in his super-maintained, non-general and splashes of poetry Dashevsky. The background of the majority of even the best, every naosa, domestic peers looked like an angular loner, an impregnable unique without neighbors, loved ones and a pedigree - an euphorion, which suddenly arose from anything miraculously. His debut verses directly, without the gradual intermediaries and outlines of interpretations, were included in representative anthologies, the “mentioning keyboard” of the country's best readers.

He repeatedly and with special meaning repeated the word “man” (“single person”) in critical essays, and the word “inside” (“all questions from him”) in a few self -inspections). Squealing in the verses and prose of the first person, he surprisingly said a lot about others, about all of us, Heinrich and seeds, Kolyakh, Zaremh and other birds in bird cherry, who had not yet been born to Frau girls from China and Yunts with a photograph of Sylvester Stallone under a hospital pillow. A special weight, moreover, the obvious advantage of the “internal” even made a runaway exchange of welcoming remarks when meeting with Grisha a slurry fact, which you later and thoughtfully recall, sorting through precious details and shades.

It seems to me that he would have passed so, shyly shy and remaining inside himself, if not for his gaze, unusual on the seemingly very young person of a teenager of transitional age. The hidden, slightly blurred and only over time flared up, but already indomitable fire, along with the incomparable angle of this view, made up the secret and attractiveness always as if not quite local, as if not quite today's poems by Dashevsky. The described by him, now, is seen by a wild, look at the inside out from there , as if this boy already knew everything about everything ...

Eternal peace and bright memory to you, friend!