Everything You Don’t Have

“A word. A pause—and that is all. I have nothing more I could say in words. Only sky and sky, and both shine silver in ash-grey hair.” Poet Valdemaras Kukulas, 1959–2011

“When the iron of pain cools, open your eyes to the colours of sky and earth—like an angel moving away from yourself, you will see the golden head of an age.” Poet Algirdas Verba, friend of Valdemaras Kukulas, 1941–2000

Rolandas Kazlas, author of the stage adaptation and director of the play “Everything You Don’t Have”:

“One of the books by poet and literary critic Valdemaras Kukulas, in which he surveys and reflects on Lithuanian poetry and literature, is titled The End of the Era of Magnanimous Words. When you delve into Valdemaras Kukulas’s own poetry and his attitude to his craft, the poet himself seems like a guardian and bard of that era of magnanimous words. A keeper, cultivator and creator of those words, like a descendant of some vanished, noble civilisation; a hero from a time when giants still lived, who wandered into this age, sang of it, versified it, praised and mourned it, us and those who will come after us, this land and this world, this earth and this sky—and then journeyed back to that Magnanimity he so lacked, which he sought so devotedly in this life, in his creative work, in this increasingly soulless time.

“The play ‘Everything You Don’t Have’ is, of course, intended first and foremost for admirers of the poet Valdemaras Kukulas and, at the same time, for all lovers of Lithuanian poetry. After all, this poet, who remained faithful to poetry to the very end, is one of the most fascinating, having given his whole self to his work… As you read his poems, you can feel the lonely poet’s and human being’s voice, permeated with pain and sorrow, holding every shade of human experience. In the poet’s own words: ‘Your loneliness and your fullness: having lost everything—full of everything.’

“The poet’s poems are, in essence, the play’s main character and its text. I tried to listen closely and immerse myself in them: to sense and discover what states of mind and moods they might hold. In the end, it was interesting to try, through theatrical means, to give the poems colours and shadows that you might not suspect from reading the written words alone. I am glad to have the opportunity to engage with the work of this extraordinary poet. I sincerely thank Valdemaras Kukulas’s wife, Deimantė, for her help and trust. I am grateful to Vilniaus teatras „Lėlė“ and its company for the opportunity to create there again after a longer pause.

“In 2009, I created my first poetry play at this theatre, Geležis ir sidabras, based on poems by the poet Vladas Šimkus. Incidentally, the play is still alive, is being performed, and continues to draw a warm and sizeable audience. An interesting coincidence: Vladas Šimkus and Valdemaras Kukulas were good friends and even neighbours. So I hope their friendship and neighbourliness will continue in this theatre’s repertoire.

“Too late to withdraw after all. Poetry! You are an arena, which only those who walk its sharpest edge can cross!” Poet Vladas Šimkus, 1936–2004

“God, grant you such a good life; God, grant everyone—ah, everyone—to live like this…” Poet Valdemaras Kukulas, neighbour of Vladas Šimkus