THE STORIES OF ISAAC BABEL
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means," and with tears in her fishlike eyes she suddenly demands that
her husband return Babel's watch to him-which he does, albeit with a
"vicious pinch." Thus saved from his father's anger, Babel turns into
Pushkin Street and "saw for the first time the things surrounding me as
they really were: frozen in silence and ineffably beautiful." The violence
of
Red Cavalry-which
was the violence of life itself-has passed. The
violence of "Di Grasso"-which is the violence of art-has taken its
place. And it is in the latter that we find the nobility and justice Babel
sought. I think "Di Grasso" ought to be read after the stories of
Red
Cavalry,
for then it would serve to instruct those of us who are so fa–
miliar with the literary modes of violence that we are inclined to forget
what a monstrous actuality the thing in itself really is.
MEXICAN NIGHT
On the million Mexican mountain a heartbeat under
Stars real and abstract spread to horizonless arc
See, all is visible, feel, all is wonder,
And all is one: volcanic sheer of rock
And sky and earthling merged, past end of ponder,
Whole universe revealed, apparent in white dark.
Leading the mountain gaze, drawing halt mind from its cover,
Glowing centers of space or feathered millions of sky
Open milky ways, include frail rock and seer
In silver light years, clouds of dust nebulae.
You may say: I have seen all, the reaches of bright forever.
Then ask: How stretch the mind as far as the eye?
Lenore G. Marshall
