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A great reminder to read or reread the Russian classics. Not original to me, but sometimes I agree with the thought that perhaps out of great pain comes great art? (We know the Russians to have great lit, opera, ballet.) But from that part of the world comes one of my fav poets who often asked himself what was his role as a poet. Was it to record/be a witness of life around him? Be that human "witness"? Here is an except from his poem "In Warsaw": I hear voices, see smiles. I cannot/Write anything; five hands/Seize my pen and order me to write/The story of their lives and deaths./Was I born to become/a ritual mourner?/I want to sing of festivities,/The greenwood into which Shakespeare/Often took me. Leave/To poets a moment of happiness,/Otherwise your world will perish. Czeshalw Milosz, Polish.

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Beautful.

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Very interesting examination. I wonder how contemporary Russian literature compares to their classical counterparts? Do you know if modern life has "dumbed down" their writing as has ours? Not just in terms of components of writing (vocab/reading comprehension/ etc.) but in their exploration of understanding man's nature and relationship to himself and the world?

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Very good question. I don't know. Not familiar with contemporary Russian lit. But I'd be curious.

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