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In the Inmost Hour of the Soul

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4.44  ·  Rating details ·  32 ratings  ·  4 reviews
" .. .1 have no love for life as such; for me it begins to have significance, i.e., to acquire meaning and weight, only when it is transformed, i.e., in art. If I were taken beyond the sea- into paradise-and forbidden to write, I would refuse the sea and paradise. I don't need life as a thing in itself." This, written by Tsvetayeva in a letter to her Czech friend, Teskova, ...more
Hardcover, 108 pages
Published May 1st 1989 by Humana
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mwpm
Dec 11, 2016 rated it really liked it
Shelves: poetry
The war, the war! The incense at the altars,
The chirring spurs.
But I don't give a damn for the tsar's problems
And people's war.

It's as if on a slightly frayed tightrope
I dance to tiny tunes.
A shadow of someone's shade, I am a sleepwalker
Of two dark moons.
- The war, the war, pg. 2

* * *

Here, darling, take these rags
That once were tender flesh.
I tore it up, I wore it down -
All I have now are these two wings.

Dress me in your splendor.
Save me and forgive.
Take away to the sacristy
Those poor rotting
...more
d
Aug 27, 2016 rated it liked it
In the inmost hour of the soul,
In the inmost one-of the night ...
(The gigantic stride of the soul,
Of the soul in the night)

That hour, soul, reign
Over the worlds you desire.
To rule is the lot of the soul:
Soul, reign.

Cover the lips with rust; snow lightly
Upon the lashes ...
(The Atlantic sigh of the soul,
Of the soul in the night. .. )

That hour, soul, darken
The eyes in which you will rise
Like a Vega ... make bitter
The sweetest fruit, soul.

Make bitter: darken:
Grow: reign.

(1923)
Steve
Mar 15, 2013 rated it really liked it
Shelves: poetry
I love these translations...
Aly
May 11, 2018 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Read on of my favorite collections of poetry for the millionth time. I’m gonna go ahead and count it again because I gotta make my 50 books challenge!
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Марина Цветаева
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva was born in Moscow. Her father, Ivan Tsvetaev, was a professor of art history and the founder of the Museum of Fine Arts. Her mother Mariya, née Meyn, was a talented concert pianist. The family travelled a great deal and Tsvetaeva attended schools in Switzerland, Germany, and at the Sorbonne, Paris. Tsvetaeva started to write verse in her early childhood.
...more
“I kissed you! I witched you!
I laugh at the afterlife’s dark.”
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