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Lädt ... Selected Poemsvon Marina Tsvetaeva
Lädt ...
Melde dich bei LibraryThing an um herauszufinden, ob du dieses Buch mögen würdest. Keine aktuelle Diskussion zu diesem Buch. I first fell in love with her "Poems for Akhmatova": "Muse of lament, you are the most beautiful of all muses, a crazy emanation of white night: and you have sent a black snow storm over all Russia. We are pierced with the arrows of your cries so that we shy like horses at the muffled many times uttered pledge--Ah!--Anna Akhmatova--the name is a vast sight and it falls into depths without name and we wear crowns only through stamping the same earth as you, with the same sky over us.... I stand head in my hands thinking how unimportant are the traps we set for one another..." This collection also contains her beautiful elegies for Moscow, her tender listing of beloved details, her heartfelt sarcasm. Weariness and beauty permeate the poetry of Maria Tsvetaeva. She struggled with life and love over the course of her short existence, but endured, supported in part by fellow artists, most notably Mandelstam, Rilke and Pasternak. The poetry in this selection is arrayed in chronological order and ranges from the "starry nights, in the apple orchards of Paradise"(p 5) to the "muffled blow" of Epitaph (p 106). Inspiration from fellow poets Mayakovsky, Blok and Akhmatova impress upon the reader her poetic muse and mystery. I like the poetry infused with literary references, Shakespeare and others, as this is a type that I share with her - in my own humble way. She has a way of making the simplest image seem to embody meaning beyond the possibilities of a finite world. She suggests this and more in lines like: "a manifestly yellow, decidedly rusty leaf--has been left behind on the tree." (p 120) Her poetry exhibits an aesthetic beauty that transcends my ability to describe the feelings it embodies. Along with Pasternak, Mandelstam, and Akhmatova, Marina Tsvetaeva stands as one of the four great Russian poets of the Twentieth Century and is one of the most important Women writers in the Western Canon. Zeige 3 von 3 keine Rezensionen | Rezension hinzufügen
During the Stalin years Russia had four great poets to voice the feelings of her oppressed people: Pasternak, Akhmatova, Mandelstam and Marina Tsvetayeva. The first two survived the terror, but Mandelstam died in a camp and Tsvetayeva was driven to hang herself in 1941. This comprehensive selection of Tsvetayeva's poetry includes complete versions of all her major long poems and poem cycles: Poem of the End, An Attempt at a Room, Poems to Czechia and New Year Letter. It was the first English translation to use the new, definitive Russica text of her work. It also includes additional versions ascribed to F.F. Morton which first appeared in The New Yorker: these rhyming translations are actually the work of Joseph Brodsky (who lived at 44 Morton Street in New York). Keine Bibliotheksbeschreibungen gefunden. |
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Google Books — Lädt ... GenresMelvil Decimal System (DDC)891.7142Literature Literature of other languages Literature of east Indo-European and Celtic languages Russian and East Slavic languages Russian poetry USSR 1917–1991 Early 20th century 1917–1945Klassifikation der Library of Congress [LCC] (USA)BewertungDurchschnitt:
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into the black earth, to nourish
the rushes unstoppably
without cure, gushes
verse
This was a necessary refuge, a raft where the sea's bed is murky. There is so much doubt, singed with hunger on these pages, yet there's a human exuberance. There's agency, not tr potlatch, no Cleopatra dissolving a priceless pearl in and drinking the dregs, as Calasso noted. There are quests and memorials. There is rapt ardor even when the soul's been steeped in grief. There's a determination to right the course when fate has proved abusive.
The last concept, of sense-making within the delirium of an overturned world is evidenced in the sublime An Attempt At Room, a poem which appears to me to be the analogy of making a home in a collapsing building.
For a rendezvous is a locality,
A list - calculation, sketch -
Of words that are not always apposite,
Of gestures all wrong, simply out of touch.
Reading her lines, one can inhale the ancient perseverance, the ability to manage the ignoble and the banal with no chance for posterity. There's a line in a novel I broached recently, an exile is a refugee with a library. ( )