“The Meaning of the Sea” by Alexander Ivanovich Vvedensky is a haunting and enigmatic poem that defies conventional interpretation, embodying the surreal and absurdist aesthetic characteristic of the Russian avant-garde. Vvedensky, a central figure of the OBERIU group, constructs a world where logic collapses, language fractures, and meaning becomes fluid—much like the sea itself. The poem does not offer a linear narrative or clear moral, but rather invites the reader into a metaphysical and philosophical reflection on existence, perception, and the unknowable. In this introductory discussion, we shall explore the poem’s themes, language, and structure, aiming to uncover how Vvedensky uses the sea as both a literal and symbolic element to express the ambiguity and complexity of human consciousness.
The Meaning Of The Sea by Alexander Ivanovich Vvedensky
to make everything clear
live backwards
take walks in the woods
tearing hair
when you recognize fire
in a lamp a stove
say wherefore you yearn
fire ruler of the candle
what do you mean or not
where’s the cabinet the pot
demons spiral like flies
over a piece of cake
these spirits displayed
legs arms and horns
juicy beasts war
lamps contort in sleep
babes in silence blow the trumpet
women cry on a pine-tree
the universal God stands
in the cemetery of the skies
the ideal horse walks
finally the forest comes
we look on in fear
we think it’s fog
the forest growls and waves its arms
it feels discomfort boredom
it weakly whispers I’m a phantom
maybe later I’ll be
fields stand near a hillock
holding fear on a platter
people montenegrins beasts
joyfully feast
impetuous the music plays
finns have fun
shepherds shepherdesses bark
barks are rowed across tables
here and there in the barks
mark the minutes’ haloes
we are in the presence of fun
I said this right away
either the birth of a canyon
or the nuptials of cliffs
we will witness this feast
from this bench this trumpet
as the tambourines clatter
and flutter, spinning like the earth
skies will come and a battle
or we will come to be ourselves
goblets moved among mustaches
in the goblets flowers rose
and our thoughts were soaring
among curled plants
our thoughts our boats
our gods our aunts
our souls our breath
our goblets in them death
but we said, and yet
there’s no meaning in this rain
we beg, pass the sign
the sign plays on water
the wise hills throw
into the stream all those who feasted
glasses flourish in the water
water homeland of the skies
after thinking we like corpses
showed to heaven our arses
sea time sleep are one
we will mutter sinking down
we packed our instruments
souls powders feet
stationed our monuments
lighted our pots
on the floor of the deep
we the host of drowned men
in debate with the number fifteen
will shadow-box and burn up
and yet years passed
fog passed and nonsense
some of us sank on the floor
like the board of a ship
another languishes
gnashes his wisdom teeth
another on dull seaweed
hung the laundry of his muscle
and blinks like the moon
when the wave swings
another said my foot
is the same as the floor
in sum all are discontented
left the water in a huff
the waves hummed in back
starting to work
ships hopped around
horses galloped in the fields
shots were evident and tears
sleep and death in the clouds
all the drowned men came out
scratched themselves before the sunset
and rode off on a carriage beam
some were rich some not
I said I see right away
the end will come anyway
a big vase is brought this way
with a flower and a cymbal
here’s a vase that’s clever
here’s a candle snow
salt and mousetrap
for fun and pleasure
hello universal god
here I stand a bit sullied
glory be to heavens washed away
my oar memory and will.
