Scan barcode
pidgevorg's review against another edition
5.0
By far the absolute best translations of Tsvetaeva I've ever seen. Everything matches the original: meaning, form, sound, rhythm, rhyme, actually good poetry... You get the point. This should be the definitive translation. No translation is ever perfect, but this one is like 99.44% faithful.
It's a good sample of her work as well: 67 poems ranging from 1909 to 1938. The progression of her style is pretty well represented.
It's a good sample of her work as well: 67 poems ranging from 1909 to 1938. The progression of her style is pretty well represented.
maya_irl's review against another edition
5.0
"What could you know about me if
We never slept or drank together?"
We never slept or drank together?"
slowheaven's review against another edition
3.0
I really wish I could understand these poems in the original language because, while the translation may have tried to keep true to Tsvetaeva's rhythms, I have read other renditions of certain poems in this collection that I much prefer. A lot of these poems kept giving me a frustrating sense of proximity to what she wanted me to feel/know/see, like trying to make out a figure in detail through frosted glass. But seldom could I break through the haze; perhaps the fault is with me. I would like to try other translations despite this. Some favorites:
"For Mama"
"You walk, somewhat like myself..."
"P.E."
"In my unending city there is night... "
"There's a window lit..."
"My day's peculiar and mad..."
"Nights without the beloved..."
"An attempt at jealousy"
"For Mama"
"You walk, somewhat like myself..."
"P.E."
"In my unending city there is night... "
"There's a window lit..."
"My day's peculiar and mad..."
"Nights without the beloved..."
"An attempt at jealousy"
grotesqueanimal's review against another edition
3.5
“Where does such tenderness come from?
These curls that I stroke with my hand
Aren’t the first I’ve stroked, and I
Knew lips that were darker than yours.
The stars rose in the sky and faded,
Where does such tenderness come from? —
And glowing eyes also rose and faded
Right next to my own two eyes.
And I used to listen to greater hymns
In complete darkness, at night,
Betrothed — Oh, tenderness! —
On the chest of the singer himself.
Where does such tenderness come from,
And what do I do with it, you, sly,
Adolescent, vagabond singer,
Whose lashes couldn’t be longer?”
February 18, 1916
These curls that I stroke with my hand
Aren’t the first I’ve stroked, and I
Knew lips that were darker than yours.
The stars rose in the sky and faded,
Where does such tenderness come from? —
And glowing eyes also rose and faded
Right next to my own two eyes.
And I used to listen to greater hymns
In complete darkness, at night,
Betrothed — Oh, tenderness! —
On the chest of the singer himself.
Where does such tenderness come from,
And what do I do with it, you, sly,
Adolescent, vagabond singer,
Whose lashes couldn’t be longer?”
February 18, 1916
punkgodofthestraightrazor's review against another edition
4.0
Bittersweet
This is the first time that I have read Marina Tsvetaeva's work. I was ambivalent about her early work, but entranced by her later poems, particularly the ones involving God and religion.
This is the first time that I have read Marina Tsvetaeva's work. I was ambivalent about her early work, but entranced by her later poems, particularly the ones involving God and religion.
More...