Twelve Theses on Antique Culture

Aleksei Fedorovich Losev

(Translated by Oleg Kreymer and Kate Wilkinson)

Thesis 1

First of all we must distinguish Antique culture from other cultures. Since cognition advances by means of comparison, let us first point out what Antique culture is not, and then we will talk about what it is. Antique culture is not modern European culture. And what is modern European culture? It is bourgeois-capitalistic culture based on private ownership. At the forefront, there is the individual, the subject and his power, his self-perception, his generation of all that is objective. The subject stands above the object; Man is proclaimed the king of nature. This does not exist in Antique culture; the personality there does not have such colossal and absolute meaning as in modern European culture. My first thesis is very simple: Antique culture is based on the principle of objectivism.

Thesis 2

We must also distinguish Antiquity from the millennium of medieval culture, the foundation of which is monotheism, the absolutizing of a personality. Why yes, according to the medieval view, above the world, above the human, reigns the absolute personality, who creates the cosmos from nothing, helps it and saves it. In brief, the absolute person stands above all history.

There is nothing like this in Antique culture, although it also has its absolute. What kind? The starry sky, for instance. That is, the absolute we see with our eyes—hear, feel. The sensible cosmos, sensual-material cosmology—this is the basis of Antique culture.

It is interesting that even Idealists were affected when looking at the starry sky, at the sensible cosmos. Plato (or his disciple Phillippus of Opus) states that the most important thing for the human soul is to mimic the movement of the celestial bodies. They rotate perfectly for all of eternity—always equally, symmetrically, harmonically, without any breach. And likewise the human soul. And here is another striking passage. In Plato’s Timaeus where we find a description of cosmology, the master demiurge creates the cosmos from matter in an intelligent, animated, living likeness, obviously a human being. Corporeal and therefore visible and perceptible—this is how the newborn cosmos had to be. And later, when the cosmos had to be completed in such a way that it would become Everything, the gods began making three kinds of, again, living and corporeal beings (on earth, in the air, and in water). Thus, the cosmos, visible, audible, sensible and material in the imagination of the ancient Greek is nothing other than the gigantic body of a living human being, as a whole as well as in its parts.

Thus, our second thesis reads: Antique culture is not only objectivism, but also a sensible-material cosmology. This is how it differs from medieval philosophy and the religion of the absolute spirit.

Thesis 3

Since we began from human intuition based on sensible perception, this intuition will also tell us that there exists something alive, in constant motion. And if something moves, either it is being moved by another thing or it is moving on its own. The people of Antiquity supposed self-movement existed from the beginning. No reason to go on searching endlessly for the principle of movement! At the same time, a thing, since it exists and it is moving, is alive and animated. Therefore, the cosmos that we discussed in the second thesis is also animated, also intelligent. All of this is understood in terms of the human being; since the human body is intelligent and animated, therefore the cosmos is animated and intelligent.

Thus, the third thesis reads: Antiquity is based on an animate-intelligent cosmology. And not only upon an objective one, not only upon one that is sensible-material and objective.

Thesis 4

If there is the vault of heaven, stars . . . but nothing creating this cosmos, because this cosmos exists eternally, on its own, then it is its own absolute.

This is stated by Aristotle in the pages of his tractate On the Heavens. The cosmos has nowhere to move; space is already taken up by it. Therefore, we can speak of absolute cosmology as one of the most important characteristics of Antique culture. So states my fourth thesis.

The following theses, five and six, will develop the thesis of the absolute cosmos.

Thesis 5

Since there is an absolute cosmos, which we see, hear, feel . . . therefore, this cosmos is a deity.

And how do you comprehend a deity? As an Absolute. Is a deity that which creates all, that which is above all, that upon which all depends? Well then, this is our very cosmos. The cosmos itself is this absolute deity. Pantheism follows from the fundamentals of this objective and sensibly interpreted cosmos. Thus, Antique culture grows based on pantheism. Some may object, saying: this means that there is nothing else besides the cosmos? What about gods? Aren’t the gods higher than the cosmos?

Antique gods are those ideas that become embodied in the cosmos, the laws of nature that rule the cosmos.

But we don’t call our natural laws “gods.” Yet there, the laws of nature are called gods. So what do we have? The idea of a thing is higher than the thing itself, isn’t it? Isn’t an idea immaterial? But it is only formally immaterial; its substance is the complete reflection of the thing. Therefore, all the virtues and vices of both nature and human life are reflected in the gods. I have to admit that this statement about the gods being the result of the deification of the powers of nature is rather commonplace and trivial, but it is absolutely correct.

Remember: not all banality is bad; many commonplaces are true.

What are the Antique gods? They are nature itself, they are the absolute cosmos taken as absolute. Therefore all the vices, all the virtues that are in man and nature—they are all in a deity as well. Shall we call to mind what the gods are in Antique literature? Take Homer for example. The gods fight one another, cursing, trying to spite one another. Pallas Athena—the beautiful goddess of heroism and wisdom—is called “dog’s fly” by Ares.

What should we make of this? We have ordinary humanity, only taken as absolute; the ordinary world, only taken as a cosmos and from the absolute point of view.

Thus, my fifth thesis states—pantheism. Because everything is a deity, the ideal gods are only generalizations of respective spheres of nature, both intelligent and unintelligent.

Thesis 6

This, also, is a development of our thought on absolute cosmology.

Let us reason: is there anything other than the cosmos? No. The cosmos therefore depends on itself? Yes. Therefore, it is free? Of course. No one created it, no one saved it, no one is watching over it. And if any are watching over, they are limited beings themselves. Therefore, this cosmology implies freedom? Absolutely correct. But, on the other hand, since there is nothing other than the cosmos, since it is completely free, then all of the laws, regularities, customs existing in the depths of the cosmos are a result of absolute necessity. Why? Precisely because there is nothing else. It is That outside of which the cosmos cannot go. Behold the dialectics of freedom and necessity. This is well known to us from other systems of philosophy. But this is not the point. We have Antiquity before us! Freedom and necessity refract differently here. But how?

What the cosmos “prescribes” will be. Necessity is destiny; it is impossible to go outside of its borders. Antique culture cannot function without destiny. Do you not recall what moira is? What heimarmena is? What tuchê is? Plato, depicting the fall of the chariot of souls in Phaedrus helps us imagine how they turn into different kinds of beings, and calls this the law of adrasteia, also the necessity of destiny. Tuchê, anankê, moira, adrasteia—is this not enough for you? It is enough, enough to say that Antique culture develops under the sign of fatalism.

But here we encounter a curious thing. The modern European draws very strange conclusions from fatalism. Many reason thus: very well, since everything depends on destiny, I need not do anything. In any case, destiny will do everything as it wills. The man of Antiquity is incapable of such feeble-mindedness. He reasons otherwise. Is all defined by destiny? Very well! Therefore, destiny is above me? Above. And I don’t know what it will undertake? I do not. Why should I then not act as I will? If I knew how destiny would treat me, I would act according to its laws, but it remains unknown. Therefore, I may act as I please. I am—a hero.

Antiquity is based on a combination of fatalism and heroism. This is the essence of thesis six. Recall: Achilles knows, as it is foretold to him, that he will die at the walls of Troy. When he goes into the dangerous battle, his own horses say, “Where are you going? You are going to die . . .” But what does Achilles do? He pays no attention to the warnings. Why? He is—a hero. He came with a certain goal and he will pursue it. His dying or not dying—this is the concern of Destiny; his own is to be a hero. Such a dialectics of fatalism and heroism is rare. It is not always present, but it was in Antiquity.

Thus, the sixth thesis reads: Antique culture is the absolute rule of a fatalistic-heroic cosmology.

Thesis 7

This, also, is a development of thesis four. If all exists only in the cosmos, if there is nothing else, if the cosmos expresses itself and the way it expresses itself is absolute, then it is not only the cosmos, but also . . . a work of art? Yes! From the point of view of all Antique aesthetics, the cosmos is the best, most perfect work of art. Thus my thesis states: before us is an artistic understanding of the cosmos. The term “cosmos” itself points to harmony, system, order, beauty. The fact that it is the best work of art is commonly acknowledged.

And what is human art? Only a miserable likeness of cosmological art.

The cosmos is the body, absolute and absolutized, defining its own laws.

And where is there a human body that depends only on itself, is beautiful in itself, and expresses only itself? In sculpture! Only in sculpture do we find a human body that depends on nothing. In this way, the harmony of the human body is firmly established. The reasoning that the Antique cosmos is a work of art uncovers much. We ought to say that Antique culture is not only sculptural itself, it also tends to symmetry, harmony, rhythm, measure—that is, everything that is concerned with the body, its condition, its state. And the chief realization of this is sculpture.

Antiquity is sculptural. This is my seventh thesis.

Thesis 8

This thesis emerges as the result of increasing generalization. Up to now, I have spoken about the cosmos as an absolute body, beautiful and divine. Pardon me, is there nothing else? How is that? The cosmos then is the absolutization of nature. Ah, ha! Antique culture is based upon a non-personal cosmology. If one argues against the notion that the cosmic body is the basis of everything, the argument must arise from non-Antique principles. Some argue, saying that by using our approach we rob Antiquity, that it emerges dull, poor. No, this is an argument from the point of view of monotheism. Monotheism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam—in these, truly, the basis is not nature but an absolute personality. If you are interested in an absolute personality, do not turn to Antiquity, better to occupy yourself with medieval monotheism. There, everything will be built on the absolute personality which is above the world, before the cosmos, before any Body.

But here—we have only nature itself, beautifully organized; it is its own absolute.

My thesis reads: Antique culture is based on a non-personal cosmology.

The following theses are devoted to an analysis of the non-personal nature of Antique culture. The ninth thesis will examine cosmology as an objective picture, the tenth will discuss the cosmos as a subjective picture, and the eleventh concerns the cosmos in a general sense—both objective and subjective.

Thesis 9

This concerns the objective side of the non-personal cosmos. As a philologist, I search for terms. Philosophy, “wisdom-loving,” exists to study the essence of the affair. We have the term “ousia”; it has many meanings. Two are principle—1: fact, fact of existence, from “eimi”—to be; 2: meaning, essence, sense.

To characterize his objective existence the Greek utilizes the term “ousia,” but he hardly differentiates the fact of existence from the meaning of existence. There are no grounds at all for discussing a personal aspect. Thus, “ousia” has no relation to the personality. And now, another interesting thing.

How is a personality defined?

We have the Latin term “subjectum.” But can we translate it into Russian as “subject”?¹ Of course not, this term has no relation to our word “subject.” What does “subjectum” mean? That, from “subiecio,” which is thrown under, placed under specific qualities and characteristics, which a given thing possesses. That is, not only the sum total of certain characteristics but also the bearer of these characteristics. But this is an object, not a subject, isn’t it? Correct! When we translate the Latin “subjectum” into the Russian “subject”—it is illiterate! The Latin “subjectum” corresponds to the Russian “object?”² You will ask, what are we to do with the Latin “objectum”? Well, it is the same thing, only from the other side. The prefix “ob” indicates that something is not only placed in front of us but also, in a way, “facing” us, that we, in a way, see it with our eyes and feel it with our hands. Hence, “subjectum” is the object in general, on its own, and “objectum” is an object such that it is given to our senses. Where is personality here? Neither in the Latin “subjectum” nor in the Latin “objectum” is there any personality at all!

God forbid also that we should translate the Latin word “individuum” as “personality.” Show me a single Latin dictionary where, in the entry for “individuum,” you find the meaning “personality.” “Individuum” is simply “indivisible,” “inseparable.” We often look at personality, on the one hand, as divisible. A table consists of legs, a board, etc—it is divisible; on the other hand a table is a table; it is indivisible, it is “individuum.” Any table, any flea, is “individuum” in this sense. Where is personality in all this? There are no grounds for translating “individuum” as personality. It is a genuine object, nothing more, but taken from a certain point of view. Thus, I do not find personality when objectively describing Antique cosmology.

I find matter, beautifully organized, organized to the utmost in a cosmic body, and nothing more. There is no personality. In a metaphoric sense even a flower could be called a personality, even a stone. But this is not likely. This is especially clear in my tenth thesis.

Thesis 10

Here, I examine the subjective side of cosmology, which still somehow should indicate features of personality and not only the beautifully organized likeness. What are the terms for personality? “Prosopon.” What is this? “Pros” is a prefix pointing in a certain direction, “op” is the same root as the word “optical ”—something that is visible. “Prosopon”—something that strikes one’s eyes, that is visible with the eyes, that has an appearance, exterior. This is the meaning of “prosopon.” Why can it not be translated as “personality”? Because one man may possess several such “prosopons.” In Homer, we read that Ajax, laughing, inspired terror in those surrounding him with his “prosopons.” This then is not personality? He has only one personality! What, then, is “prosopon”? Either facial expression or an appearance. Further, in all of the literature “prosopon” has the meaning “appearance.”

Pindar uses “prosopon” when describing external brilliance, outward appearance. Only in Demosthenes which is not earlier than the fourth century BC do I find “prosopon” with the meaning of mask. A mask of a deity transforms the one wearing it into the deity himself. This is closer to the concept of personality, but it is still a very external aspect.

In the later literature, one speaks not of the mask but of the actor playing a given role; he is the “prosopon,” that is, the acting personage. Then, in the first century BC, I find the term “prosopon” understood as a literary character in general. In fact, until Christian literature, one does not find “prosopon” meaning personality as such. In the New Testament, in one of the Pauline letters, it reads: “Regardless of faces.” In Greek, one more term, “hypostasis,” lays a claim to “personality.” “Hypostasis” (Russian “ipostas”) or “substantia” (Latin) also has the meaning “lining” or “sole,” “what is underneath.” Only in later literature is there an inclination to understand this term as “facial character.” Of course, in the Christian teaching about the three persons, one speaks about three hypostases, and each of the persons is its own person; that is personality. Here we have a complex dialectics of the unity of three hypostases, the unity of deity, which is also declared to be a personality. I shall not touch this here; it is not an Antique theme.

In Antiquity, neither “prosopon” nor “hypostasis” have the meaning of personality . . . “Hypokeimenon,” literally “underlying,” also has its own meaning: “that which is under something”—regardless of whether it is under a stone or a tree. “Bearer”—this is actually “hypokeimenon.” This term has both a logical and a grammatical meaning. Grammatically, it is the “subject” of a sentence as opposed to the other parts of the sentence. In logic, it is the subject of a judgment. It also has a legal meaning—a person who possesses certain rights and obligations. Of course, this is closer to the concept of personality, but it still does not expose the internal aspect of personality. It is still too external.

All of the terms mentioned above should be understood as Antique, as cosmological assertions. All of these personalities, personal characteristics, are emanations of the starry sky, the ether above the universe. These are emanations of the cosmological absolute. You will say: how is this? The universal personality, in this case, is only the result of emanation from the universal ether, a result of emanation from the cosmological principle?

Personality here is taken in the following sense: it is not something indivisible; it can be reduced to heavenly processes which also concern the earth.

Thesis 11

Here, I want to show what reality is pictured as a result of this material cosmology. Here is not an object nor a subject, but something characteristic of the Antique understanding of personality. I am looking for the main categories that belong to idealistic and materialistic trends in philosophy. First of all, there is “logos.” Greek is the only language in all of Europe which identifies thought and speech. Of course they are differentiated. There is pure thought and there is simple speech. But this is an abstraction. And what does exist in reality? “Logos” which is both the word and the thought. But nowhere and never does “logos” mean personality. This word came to mean personality in Christianity. But what about the fiery “logos” of Heraclitus? Or the airy “logos” of Diogenes of Apollo? Or the numerical “logoi” of the Pythagoreans? The Stoics also taught about “seminal logoi.” Neo-Platonists taught about “logoi” that exist in matter. “Logos” is a category that is logical, linguistic and, at the same time—material, concerned with natural philosophy, connected with the air, fire, with the earth, with all of the elements that were taught in the Antique world. But the Antique “logos” is void of the concept of personality.

A second term is “idea” or “eidos” (compare with the Latin “video”—”I see”). Here is only what is visible. It is possible to say: listen, that is a remote meaning of the root; it is long forgotten. Not at all! We read in Plato: the face of a boy is lovely, beautiful, but if we undress him, his idea will be even better. How to translate this text? I translate it in this way. The boy has a lovely face, but his figure, his torso is even better. What is “idea” here? “Torso” and “figure” absolutely do not go outside the borders of physical perception. Hence, “idea” begins with the visible, the sensible. And when there is the visible in thought, there is first and foremost visibility. This differs the Antique category of idea from the category of idea in German idealism, where idea is an abstract-logical category. And what kind of category is it in Antiquity? The kind that, again, refers back to the cosmos. When Plato says that his ideas exist in the celestial world, his understanding of idea is material! He cannot imagine his idea outside of a thing, even though it is an ethereal thing—it is still a thing, it is still visible, still perceptible with the senses or mental eye.

Such are the Antique conceptions of “idea” and “logos.”

And here is another interesting point related to this thesis. I am speaking of the manifestation of cosmology in general, not simply the sum of the subjective and objective. “Logos” is not subjective or objective. Neither is “idea.”

The Greek language does not have the term “feeling.” When I translate the Greek “aisthêsis” into Russian as “feeling,” this is incorrect. The Greek word “aisthêsis”—is physical sensation. It is a worse business still in Latin. “Sensus” is not only sensual perception. Here we have the root participating in the Slavic “osiazat”.³ “Sensus” is not just physical sensation but tactile sensation. And it so happens that all that is spiritual, all that is related to the soul, is described by “sensus” in Latin. “Sensus” is feeling, mood, intention, aspiration, and any other feeling one can imagine. And so it should be. What is the basis? Cosmological. And cosmos is body. Therefore, the features of the human personality are also material and sensible.

Neither Greek nor Latin have the word “feeling.” What about the word “emotion”? In Greek it would be “aisthêsis,” in Latin—“sensus.” And all of the other subjective experiences belong here. “Fantasia”—this is not “fantasy” in the modern European sense, no. “Fantasia”—is a sensible image. Subjective, but completely passive. It is a reflection of a sensible thing. This is “fantasia.” Or the Greek “pathos.” In no case may it be understood as the Russian “pafos.”⁴ “Pathos” is a passive state of soul. As we say: active voice, passive voice. There is no sickliness here. I would translate “pathos” as “undergoing.” Instead of emotion—”pathos,” instead of feeling—“aisthêsis,” instead of inspiration, voila—“pathos”! One may say: this is not sufficient. Is personality then reduced to physical undergoings? And I shall ask you: is that which comes from heaven not enough for us? Is it not sufficient that this results from the emanations of the heavenly cosmos? If this is insufficient for you, then you have no business in Antique culture.

And yet one more term. How do we translate “technê”? On the one hand—“handicraft.” Not only human art, but also divine, cosmological.

“Cosmos” is also the greatest “technê.” Does this mean that the Greeks did not distinguish art from handicraft? Do not come to this with the criteria of modern European man. Of course, an artist of another epoch would be embittered and offended if you called his art a handicraft. “I am not a craftsman; I am an artist,” he would say. But a Greek is proud that he is a craftsman! Namely this non-personal character deprives “technê” of the meaning of high art, which is above any handicraft. On the other hand, handicraft is also deprived of its surface and too material and empty meaning. Handicraft is an important thing, spirited, animated; it is not different from art. “Technê” is first of all—handicraft, second of all—art, and third of all—it is science. Does this mean that the Greek does not distinguish handicraft and art from science? Yes, because he understands science practically. Pure speculation is, of course, possible, but it is abstraction. Real science is not pure speculation. It is always practice. Therefore, scientific “technê” does not go far from the “technê” of handicraft or from the artistic “technê.” We must come to such conclusions, if we seriously consider Antique culture as such, which is built on the principles of a material-sensible cosmology. Much can be said on this topic.

Sophia”—wisdom, but I have written elsewhere that “sophia” is also a technical skill. Are you not surprised that, when Plato begins building his world, he calls the builder “demiurge”? And “demiurge”—is a “master,” a carpenter, a joiner. And when he begins building his cosmos, he builds it as a master. Hence, in this eleventh thesis, where I have examined cosmology from the objective-subjective point of view, the principle of non-personality also dominates.

Finally, the twelfth thesis.

Thesis 12

In this thesis, I want to conclude with the following. Several years ago Professor A. A. Takho-Godi wrote a paper on the topic of the Antique concept of life as a theatrical stage. This work is very important, and after its appearance I found more evidence supporting it.

What does the main representation of the world turn out to be for the Greeks? The theatrical stage! And people are actors who appear on this stage, play their roles, and leave. Whence they come is unknown, whither they go is unknown, but they play their roles. Yet why is it not known whence they come and whither they go? They come—from heaven, because they are emanations of the cosmos and the cosmic ether; they return there also, and there dissolve, like drops in the sea.

And on earth? Earth is the stage on which they play out their roles. Some will say: but what piece do these actors play?

I answer: why do you care? Are you the cosmos? The cosmic ether? The cosmos itself writes dramas and comedies that we execute. The philosopher understands this, and it suffices for him to know this only: that he is an actor and nothing else.

Add to this that, according to the studies of the same A. A. Takho-Godi, our understanding of personality is often expressed in Greek with the term “sôma.” And “sôma” is nothing other than “body.” Thus, in their language the Greeks themselves uncovered the secret to understanding personality. Personality is a well-organized and living body.

On the one hand, the enormous non-personal character of cosmology is manifest in this representation, on the other— the elevated, high, solemn cosmology. Therefore, do not say that we degrade Antiquity by this. Is it not enough for you that you are born of the cosmos, an emanation of the ether? If it is not, then you ought not study Antiquity, for you approach from a monotheistic point of view.

These are our twelve theses.

Of course, this is in general form, but what I describe here are principles, only, of Antiquity. If you would like details as well, you expect from a principle something that is subordinate to a principle, that is, to proceed to specific layers of historical process, to proceed to specific periods of Antique culture, but these are different themes altogether. And these twelve theses give us a base to start from. I would like to make one more minor clarification.

Antique man is free. He is subject to necessity. He is cosmological, non-personal. But I must add to this. Antique man is a slave-owner! Slave-ownership is also non-personal; it is cosmological, it is material, and it is sensible.

Aristotle proves the following theory. The general is the slave owner in respect to the partial. If the particular is subordinate to the general, then the particular is a slave and the general is a slave-owner. Hence, the entire cosmic system, according to Aristotle, is a slave-owning system. Slave-ownership is connected to the sensible-material cosmology. I repeat: all of the above is expressed in a general fashion; to demonstrate these points conclusively, each would need to be discussed separately.

In an article in Communist (1981, no. 11), I argued that the concept of destiny in Antiquity is a slave-owning concept. There, I also discussed the above principle. If we wish to be precise, we must discuss specific periods. There were periods of flourishing, when the Antique Greek rejoiced in the rays which radiated from the starry sky, when he prayed to the rising sun. In the end, even Antique man began to feel that his system was too far from personality and, in this sense, too empty. This later gave a new culture, based on personality taken from the absolute perspective, the opportunity to appear on the ruins of Antiquity.

Currently, in connection with my multi-volume history of Antique aesthetics, I am occupying myself with the neo-Platonists, and this is the last philosophical school of Antiquity, and a very rich one. Already, Christianity had become a state religion, already, the Ecumenical Councils resounded, when a small group of pagan philosophers created its conception of Antiquity. But the days of pagan Antiquity were over, and these very thinkers, who so deeply understood the essence of Antique philosophy, nevertheless came to the conclusion that all this was desert. Why? No one is there, since there is no person, but only some thing. Cosmos is what, not who. Therefore, I would describe the sad and tragic end of this remarkable Antique non-personal culture with the words of a twentieth-century poet.

I am flying, carrying the mute storm of inescapable flame,
I am wailing in the desert of ether.⁵

So ended those bright days when man prayed to the stars, raised himself up to the stars, and did not feel his own personality.


Notes

“Twelve Theses on Antique Culture” is included in the final volume of A History of Antique Aesthetics (Istoriia antichnoi estetiki: itogi tysiacheletnego razvitiia, Moscow, 1994, 396-408) and is published there with the following note: “These materials, under the same title, were a public lecture delivered at the symposium of the Scientific Committee on Culture of the Presidium of the USSR Academy of Sciences and have a certain oral character, which can be ignored in this present volume.”

In translating “Twelve Theses on Antique Culture,” we have attempted to leave the oral and somewhat polemic style of the piece intact. Losev does not present easy reading, even in the Russian original. His punctuation, vocabulary, and use of terminology are often peculiar or idiosyncratic. We have provided only brief notes where the text seemed to require an explanation, but for the most part we have left Losev’s meaning for the reader to discern.

  1. “Subject” in English has the same meaning and relation to the Latin term as does the Russian “субъект.”
  2. Again, the English term corresponds both etymologically and semanti cally to the Russian.
  3. The Latin root “sen-” is equivalent to “sia” in this Russian verb, “to sense.”
  4. This word is roughly equivalent to “pathos” in its modern English sense.
  5. Paraphrase from the poem “Music” by Viacheslav I. Ivanov, Losev’s teacher.
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Pub: 13 Aug 2020 12:31 UTC
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