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emotional
funny
informative
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
4.5
"All at once, while leafing through my songs, I come upon – my soul..."
The poetry in this volume had been written while Tsvetaeva - separated from her husband (who was fighting with the White Russians) - suffered a crippling loneliness , sickness, starvation, and loss during the war communism years after the Revolution. At times very difficult to hear the strain of her voice. One cannot listen without being pierced through.
"I strain all my throat’s strings until they snap!
If I entered the world a nightingale,
it wasn’t so I could preserve my throat! […]"
…........
"just outside our attic window.
Pigeons knock against the pane – what use are they as company?
The passing winds shout me their greeting – what good is that? Winds, on your way!
They’re colourless, and like the flocks
of pigeons, quite incapable of saying,
in the wonder-working tones that you would use:
‘Marina!’
November 1919
..........
"If Moscow in the plague year takes too lively
an interest in the poet, there’s an answer.
We’re capable of doing without bread!
It’s just a step from the roof – into heaven."
........
"You can decide: I’ve chopped up so much firewood
I can’t tell if it’s splitting, or my back.
The main thing is, I spoke no ill of you.
The main thing is, I kept my own good nature."
.......
"I want neither to eat, nor drink, nor live.
Merely to fold my arms, while silently
my gaze surveys an untenanted skyline.
I neither care for freedom, nor deplore it,
dear God! I won’t so much as lift a finger.
With folded arms, all I want’s to stop breathing."
........
"While your eyes follow me into the grave,
write up the whole caboodle on my cross!
‘Her days began with songs, ended in tears,
but when she died, she split her sides with laughter ! '
The poetry in this volume had been written while Tsvetaeva - separated from her husband (who was fighting with the White Russians) - suffered a crippling loneliness , sickness, starvation, and loss during the war communism years after the Revolution. At times very difficult to hear the strain of her voice. One cannot listen without being pierced through.
"I strain all my throat’s strings until they snap!
If I entered the world a nightingale,
it wasn’t so I could preserve my throat! […]"
…........
"just outside our attic window.
Pigeons knock against the pane – what use are they as company?
The passing winds shout me their greeting – what good is that? Winds, on your way!
They’re colourless, and like the flocks
of pigeons, quite incapable of saying,
in the wonder-working tones that you would use:
‘Marina!’
November 1919
..........
"If Moscow in the plague year takes too lively
an interest in the poet, there’s an answer.
We’re capable of doing without bread!
It’s just a step from the roof – into heaven."
........
"You can decide: I’ve chopped up so much firewood
I can’t tell if it’s splitting, or my back.
The main thing is, I spoke no ill of you.
The main thing is, I kept my own good nature."
.......
"I want neither to eat, nor drink, nor live.
Merely to fold my arms, while silently
my gaze surveys an untenanted skyline.
I neither care for freedom, nor deplore it,
dear God! I won’t so much as lift a finger.
With folded arms, all I want’s to stop breathing."
........
"While your eyes follow me into the grave,
write up the whole caboodle on my cross!
‘Her days began with songs, ended in tears,
but when she died, she split her sides with laughter ! '
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