#Elaine Feinstein

[majestativa]

For the path of comets is the path of poets; they burn without warming.

— Marina Tsvetaeva, Selected Poems, transl. by Elaine Feinstein, (1994)

#Russian #Marina Tsvetaeva #Selected Poems #Elaine Feinstein #1994

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

— Marina Tsvetaeva, excerpt from Poem of the End, Selected Poems (trans. Elaine Feinstein, with Angela Livingstone)

#Marina Tsvetaeva #Elaine Feinstein #Angela Livingstone

[derangedrhythms]

As I began to work on ‘Poem of the End’, I recognised something in Tsvetaeva’s work I could not find expressed elsewhere: an unguarded passion, and a desperation that arose from it, which was willing to expose the most undignified emotions.

Elaine Feinstein, Centres of Cataclysm: Celebrating Fifty Years of Modern Poetry in Translation; from ‘Marina Tsvetaeva’

#elaine feinstein #centres of cataclysm #marina tsvetaeva #other writing

[thequietabsolute]

#saved before the death of an old camera roll #elaine feinstein #poems and poetry #my books

[minoracts]

a hundred years ago, Marina Tsvetaeva, trans. Elaine Feinstein

#Marina Tsvetaeva #Elaine Feinstein

[wordlocker]

“Getting Older”, Elaine Feinstein

The first surprise: I like it. Whatever happens now, some things that used to terrify have not:

I didn’t die young, for instance. Or lose my only love. My three children never had to run away from anyone.

Don’t tell me this gratitude is complacent. We all approach the edge of the same blackness which for me is silent.

Knowing as much sharpens my delight in January freesia, hot coffee, winter sunlight. So we say

as we lie close on some gentle occasion: every day won from such darkness is a celebration.

#getting older #Elaine Feinstein #poem

[firefliesforever]

Marina Tsvetaeva

Yesterday he still looked in my eyes… Yesterday he still looked in my eyes, yet today his looks are bent aside. Yesterday he sat here until the birds began, but today all those larks are ravens.

Stupid creature! And you are wise, you live while I am stunned. Now for the lament of women in all times: — My love, what was it I did to you?

And tears are water, blood is water, a woman always washes in blood and tears. Love is a step-mother, and no mother: then expect no justice or mercy from her.

Ships carry away the ones we love. Along the white road they are taken away. And one cry stretches across the earth: — My love, what was it I did to you?

Yesterday he lay at my feet. He even compared me with the Chinese empire! Then suddenly he let his hands fall open, and my life fell out like a rusty kopeck.

A child-murderer, before some court I stand loathsome and timid I am. And yet even in Hell I shall demand: — My love, what was it I did to you?

I ask this chair, I ask the bed: Why? Why do I suffer and live in penury? His kisses stopped. He wanted to break you. To kiss another girl is their reply.

He taught me to live in fire, he threw me there, and then abandoned me on steppes of ice. My love, I know what you have done to me. — My love, what was it I did to you?

I know everything, don’t argue with me! I can see now, I’m a lover no longer. And now I know wherever love holds power Death approaches soon like a gardener.

It is almost like shaking a tree, in time some ripe apple comes falling down. So for everything, for everything forgive me, — my love whatever it was I did to you.

Translated by Elaine Feinstein

#marina tsvetaeva #elaine feinstein #poem #poetry #love

[soracities]

Marina Tsvetaeva, excerpt from Poem of the End, Selected Poems (trans. Elaine Feinstein, with Angela Livingstone)

#lit #quotes #poetry #typography #marina tsvetaeva #poem of the end #selected poems of marina tsvetaeva #russian lit #the shadow side of love #reading #m #x

[metamorphesque]

poems I loved in december

Paruyr Sevak, "To Go Mad"

Anne Sexton, "December 18th"

Ted Hughes, "Lovesong"

Chris Abani, "Ritual is Journey"

Franz Wright, "Untitled"

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, "A Prayer"

Willie Perdomo, "Maybe Under Some Other Sky"

Osip Mandelstam,'You took away all the oceans and all the room', (translated by Clarence Brown and W. S. Merwin)

Osip Mandelstam, "Tenderer than tender" transl. D. Smirnov-Sadovsky

Richard Siken, "Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out"

Michael Miller, "December"

Vladimir Mayakovsky, "A Cloud in Trousers"

Mohja Kahf, “Most Wanted”

Louise Glück, "Winter Recipes from the Collective"

Vladimir Mayakovsky, "Listen"

Fear, Czesław Miłosz, Robert Hass (translator)

Hope, Czesław Miłosz, Robert Hass (translator)

Charles Bukowski, "a vote for the gentle light"

Marina Tsvetaeva, "I Opened My Veins" (translated by Elaine Feinstein)

#literature #classic literature #poetry #poems #poetry recs #translated literature #december #winter

[lucidloving]

墨香铜臭, Heaven Official's Blessing // Tina Tran, "Until I started choking on our memories" // Rykarda Parasol // Richard Siken, "Saying Your Names" // Bluepoch Games, Reverse 1999 // Trebbe Johnson, Fierce Consciousness: Surviving the Sorrows of Earth and Self // Marina Tsvetaeva, "Poem of the End" (trans. Elaine Feinstein) // Boyish—Japanese Breakfast // @catradoraism // Richard Siken, "Planet of Love"

[Requested by @wispy-wallfish]

#theme: devotion #i hope this captures a story of devotion #becoming pain and violence #(because they've always been one and the same) #request #web weaving #webs #web weave #webweave #poetry #prose poetry #prose #aesthetic #literature #book quotes #novels #books #novel quotes #quotes #poem #poems #richard siken #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #reverse 1999 #compilation #parallels #words #writing #inspo

[majestativa]

Les éclipses des poètes ne sont pas dans les calendriers. (Poets' eclipses are not foretold in calendars.)

— Marina Tsvetaeva, Selected Poems, transl. by Elaine Feinstein, (1994) Random quotes that when meeting one's bruised conscience and consciousness, hit different.

#M. #Russian #Marina Tsvetaeva #Selected Poems #Elaine Feinstein #1994

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

— Marina Tsvetaeva, Tr. Elaine Feinstein and Angela Livingstone, Epitaph, Selected Poems

#— Marina Tsvetaeva #Elaine Feinstein #Angela Livingstone

[fandom-trash-goblin]

i think i'd love you even when i don't know you. the deathlessness of devotion, the poets call it.

unknown // The Elektra Complex, Joan Tierney // L. V. @literaryvein, an excerpt, “mimicking maelstroms.” // Sue Zhao // No one has taken anything away, Marina Tsvetaeva (trans. Elaine Feinstein) // unknown // The Drowned Children, Louise Gluck // unknown //Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments // only source i found was this pin // Courtney Peppernell, Pillow Thoughts (?)

#poetry #quotes #spilled ink #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #words #webweaving #webweave #aesthetic #poems and poetry #writing #poem #spilled thoughts #web weaving #*mine: graphics #parallels #comparitives #almost named this one / love's immortal affairs

[minoracts]

A poet’s speech begins a great way off. A poet is carried far away by speech by way of planets, signs, and the ruts of roundabout parables, between yes and no, in his hands even sweeping gestures from a bell-tower become hook-like. For the way of comets is the poet’s way. And the blown-apart links of causality are his links. Look up after him without hope. The eclipses of poets are not foretold in the calendar. He is the one that mixes up the cards and confuses arithmetic and weight, demands answers from the school bench, the one who altogether refutes Kant, the one in the stone graves of the Bastille who remains like a tree in its loveliness. And yet the one whose traces have always vanished, the train everyone always arrives too late to catch for the path of comets is the path of poets: they burn without warming, pick without cultivating. They are: an explosion, a breaking in – and the mane of their path makes the curve of a graph cannot be foretold by the calendar.

/ Marina Tsvetaeva, 'The Poet', trans. Elaine Feinstein

#marina tsvetaeva #elaine feinstein

[paperlignes]

nandor the relentless and guillermo de la cruz, what we do in the shadows (2019-) / no one has taken anything away, marina tsvetaeva, tr. by elaine feinstein

requested by @em8ambitions

#nandermo #nandor x guillermo #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #harvey guillen #kayvan novak #--fandom: what we do in the shadows #--ship: nandermo #ty emma for all your ideas <3 #i need them to kiss already so i can remake the third gif with the right scene

[derangedrhythms]

My rivers tilt towards you.

Marina Tsvetaeva, Selected Poems; from ‘My ear attends to you’, tr. Elaine Feinstein

#marina tsvetaeva #selected poems #my ear attends to you #poetry #excerpts #o #~