While reading the various poets assigned, I was intrigued by Tsvetaeva’s poems, in particular how she directly inserted herself into the poems and how she personified poetry itself.
From the first poem we were assigned titled “For my poems”, I was immediately struck by how Tsvetaeva is addressing her work directly–speaking to her poems as they were her children. In addition I was struck by a seeming role reversal in “For my poems”, as it seemed like the poems themselves were overpowering Tsvetaeva rather than her creating them. She remarks, “Poems storming inside me, invading like some tiny demons” and that she wrote down these poems when she “did not know I was a poet”. To me, this created an intimacy between the poet and her work I have not experienced, and it made the poems even more impactful to read.
Going back to my comment about how it seemed as if Tsvetaeva thought of her poems as ‘children’ I was validated and further intrigued by her poem titled, “Every poem is a child of love”. However (and I think this poem would be fascinating to discuss further), she compares her poems to a “waif born illegitimately…set at the mercy of the wind”–what does she mean by this? Again, I think further discussion on this poem would be fascinating. In all, I just found Tsvetaeva’s commentary on her own poems interesting and it was unlike other poems I have read.
Additionally, I thought that Tsvetaeva’s blatant allusions to herself in her poems was interesting as well, particularly in “Much like me” and “Longing for the motherland”. Her use of first-person as well as detailed descriptions almost make it seem as though we are entering Tsvetaeva’s mind as her perspective in her own voice from her own point of view is being presented to us. I found that technique resulted in a different, much more stimulating experience while reading her poems. I felt as though I was actually beginning to experience something in someone else’s mind. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but I thought the relationship she establishes between herself and her work is extremely powerful.
The works of Tsvetaeva remind me of the artistic works of Natalia Goncharova and Zinaida Serebriakova. The idea of using one’s creative works to act as a mirror oneself is something I see very frequently in the silver age works. There’s another silver age work that I read last semester as part of the literature class that involves a lady becoming so entrenched with her reflection in a mirror that she eventually switches places with her reflection and the doppelganger proceeds to do debaucherous things in the real world. The idea of the mirror is a complex one, and it helps in defining the “self” in Russian culture, which seems to be a long-lasting issue in Russian society.
Colby, this is such an insightful connection between the various self-portraits (poetic and painterly) we’ve encountered, and also with the short story “The Mirror” that you read last semester! I love your identification of the mirror as a central, and very complex, trope in the art and literature of this period, as artists and writers grappled with their own identity and self-definition. This could be a great topic for a final paper or project!
Sorry I pressed a button to early without goin through and editing! Please read this comment:
I think something that is interesting about Tsvetaeva and that a reader always has to know about her poetry when reading it is her focus to the melody and song of language in verse. Tsvetaeva’s mother was a concert pianist, and during her childhood Tsvetaeva herself was trained in her mother’s hopes that she would become a musician. With this piece of biographical information, and without any knowledge of Russian language, if you listen to any of the assigned poems on YouTube in Russian, you can really hear how she plays at sounds and melody. I really encourage everybody to do so!
When she referred to her poems as waif-born and set to the wind, I think it has to refer to the fact that she didn’t see herself as a poet when she wrote them, so her characterization of her poems was rather a characterization of herself. I think her classifying herself as a waif and the children illegitimate is meant to compare herself to the works of established authors at the time, whereas her unaccredited status at the time made her seem like a lower writer, not even considering herself to be a writer. I believe this also relates to her “released to the wind” line, as she had fewer resources to widely distribute her early poems than say Pushkin, so her poems had a slower, more personal spread rather than someone with major backing.
Hi Gabe, all great points! But in regard to Pushkin: although he was able to publish some of his early poems, he increasingly had to contend with the censorship as time went on, particularly after he was exiled. And much that he wrote was just totally unpublishable during his lifetime. So in fact, Tsvetaeva had more access to publication throughout much of her life than Pushkin did! But these metaphors that you point to are very much in keeping with her characterization of herself as an outcast… this is not necessarily always based in fact; rather, it was part of her own poetic myth.
I think it is productive to examine the relationship Tsvetaeva develops between her authorial self and her poems. I find it especially interesting to compare her works on poetry itself to those of Pushkin. Both present the creation of poetry as a magnificent event: in Pushkin’s “The Poet” (1827), poetry is “god-engendered,” a flash of insight interpreted by the mortal poet; in Tsvetaeva’s “Poems Grow” (1918), a similar sort of supreme insight reaches the poet in their sleep. The main thematic difference between these works is the impact of the revelation. According to Pushkin’s works, spiritual liberation is the immediate product of poetic inspiration — “Before the idol of the nation/ He is too proud to bend his knees” points to a poet compelled to resist the oppression of their state (just as Pushkin dissents to imperial Russian rule). “Exegi Monumentum” extends this message further, with poems allowing the poet to spread their message of liberty and mercy from beyond the grave. By contrast, Tsvetaeva does not regard her poems as performing the same sort of mission as her faithful successors. The manner in which she frames the inspiration for poetry as opening “the star’s law, and the formula of the flowers” attests more to an elucidating force than a liberating muse. I see the lines comparing her poems to a “waif born illegitimately…set at the mercy of the wind” as reaffirming this contrast with Pushkin’s ideas by portraying her works as existing and disseminating independently of her. The final lines speculating on the “father” of her works (a tsar or thief) likewise balances her expression against outside influences, this time alluding to the sociopolitical context in which her works exist. It is in Tsvetaeva’s unique outlook that she is able to relate with her poems as though they were her living children.
This is fabulous, Zach, and could be starting point of a very interesting final paper or project! Your closing point (also raised at length very eloquently by Liam) is exactly right: Tsvetaeva’s metaphor of her poems as children (which in sometimes becomes quite detailed and physiological, and in other poems morphs into the image of bloodletting, as in the poem “I’ve opened my veins”) is quite unique and is related to her interest in defining herself as a specifically woman poet, in terms of her own (woman’s) life experiences. I find the juxtaposition of Tsvetaeva’s poems about poetic inspiration and Pushkin’s poems on the same topic to be really suggestive and exciting! Also, if you recall, we read the Tsvetaeva poem you mention here in Russian last semester. 🙂
Liam, I agree that Tsvetaeva’s ability to translate her writing experience is extremely powerful. I found ‘Table’ to be especially strong. As a female author, her connection to her writing table is characterized by a contentious relationship: salvation and imprisonment. She writes that her table “protect[s] her like a scar” (93). The word ‘protects’ reveals that her table shields her from the oppressive world around her. Judging by the date the poem is completed, 1935, she is referring both to Stalin’s regime and the patriarchal society. The word ‘scar’ demonstrates that, like a real scar, her table is a remnant of her pain. Her table is the one space that she is able to properly confront her suffering, and it is also the one outlet she has to express the suffering; both her solace and her shackles.
Thando, “Table” (I would translate the title as “Desk,” actually) is SUCH a powerful poem, and you give a very perceptive reading of it here! I just want to mention that Tsvetaeva emigrated to western Europe (first Berlin, then Prague, then Paris) shortly after the Revolution, so, which you are definitely correct that the desk and her writing are a shield from the “oppressive outside world,” she does not specifically have Stalin in mind (in fact, she was pretty oblivious to what was really occurring inside the USSR at the time). Also I am curious to hear more about where you see indications that she is referring to “the patriarchal society.” Her biggest personal challenges at this time of her life were severe poverty and increasing isolation from the rest of the Russian emigre community in Paris.
I think you are bringing up some very interesting points, Liam! Tsvetaeva’s use of perspective in both the titles and meat of her poems are very interesting and evocative. The comparison of her poetry to an illegitimate child is also very strange, as you have pointed out, and discussing this further could lead to an interesting conversation. I thought her manipulation of perspective can be similar at times to Pasternak, whom we talked about in class, in its effect of creating a layering within the poem itself. Thank you for the great analysis!
Jacob and Liam, agreed! This is such a rich conversation! I hope we’ll have time to pursue it at least a little further in class! Liam, I am really intrigued by the fact that you responded so strongly to Tsvetaeva’s focus on the poet, and herself AS a poet, and that you felt that you were experiencing her own poetry through her own perspective and her own mind! This really speaks to the power of her work, particularly since this aspect of it came through in translation so clearly!