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To what is this that everybody
comes with gifts as of old they used
to bring gifts to shrines or altars?

Russian skill of dancing? No.
Dadaistic scenery? No. Excellent
as these things are. The whole
reveals these things.
The quaintness of Russian types,
the depth, sweetness, gaiety, colour
of the Russian character? No.
The symmetry, reserve, force, tallness
of the woman? The diverse simpleness
and open humour of the men?
The sheer skill as singers, the
ingenuity of the managers, the composers,
the depth of tradition? No.

All these things existed before
the performance. Is it Balieff?
There are other Balieffs. All these things
are essential—But it is not that
which makes men ashamed and tender and
wistful and submissive—ready to learn:

Katinka dances her polka
on the contracted stage of composition
Gaiety is formalized in her dress
and her make-up. Youth is in
the choice of the actress. Her father blinks
to the music
to show his joy in her dancing
The mother with severe face of renunciation
in a shawl—

It cannot be more than it is
without in a peasant's cottage
being mercenary to the landlord
who kills the splendour of national character