This poem in my ekphrastic series is inspired not by one art source, but by two. Both works of art — a painting, and a short story — were completed within a decade of each other.
Chekhov’s Tea
In the warm room of rose and lemon,
secrets seep from cup to lip.
In the samovar, she glows
like a pink candle-lamp
as she speaks of the stranger’s kiss.
©elsp 2025
If you’re not aware of the chekhov story …
Here’s a Project Gutenberg link to Anton Chekhov’s short story The Kiss, and their library of Chekhov stories.
The Kiss tells the story of a shy and awkward soldier, Ryabovitch, described as “a little officer in spectacles, with sloping shoulders, and whiskers like a lynx’s”. The officers from his brigade are invited to a retired Lieutenant General’s manor house to “drink tea” (i.e. smoke, dance, drink, talk). Ryabovitch, feeling inept, wanders away from the party into a dimly lit room.
“At that moment, to his surprise, he heard hurried footsteps and the rustling of a dress, a breathless feminine voice whispered “At last!” And two soft, fragrant, unmistakably feminine arms were clasped about his neck; a warm cheek was pressed to his cheek, and simultaneously there was the sound of a kiss. But at once the bestower of the kiss uttered a faint shriek and skipped back from him, as it seemed to Ryabovitch, with aversion. He, too, almost shrieked and rushed towards the gleam of light at the door.”
-Anton Chekhov, from “The Kiss”
The fragrant young lady has mistaken Ryabovitch for someone else. Ryabovitch is at first embarrassed, but becomes intrigued. He infuses the moment with great meaning, convincing himself he has a secret love, thus setting himself up for existential disappointment in the months ahead. It’s a story about yearning and reality, fate and human desire, and how small moments can change your life.
Anyway, the young ladies in Irving R. Wiles’ painting above remind me of the lilac young lady, and the fair girl in the black dress from the story:
“His eyes rested on the lilac young lady, and he thought her very attractive; she had beautiful shoulders and arms, a clever face, and a delightful voice. Ryabovitch, looking at her, hoped that she and no one else was his unknown. . . . But she laughed somehow artificially and wrinkled up her long nose, which seemed to him to make her look old. Then he turned his eyes upon the fair girl in a black dress. She was younger, simpler, and more genuine, had a charming brow, and drank very daintily out of her wineglass. Ryabovitch now hoped that it was she.”
-Ibid.
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