Distances divide, exclude us [Extract from a poem addressed to Pasternak] by Marina Tsvetaeva

Distances divide, exclude us.

They’ve dis-weilded and dis-glued us.

Despatched, disposed of, dis-inclusion –

they never knew this meant fusion

of elbow grease and inspiration.

 

by Марина Ивановна Цветаева (Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva)

(1925)

translated by Peter Oram

Interesting addition: Throughout much of 1926 Tsvetaeva kept up and intense correspondence with Rainer Maria Rilke and Boris Pasternak. The above poem was sent to Pasternak while Tsvetaeva was in exile and had moved from Prague to Paris thus increasing her distance from her homeland. She grew increasingly isolated amongst the other emigre community as she had praised the works of Mayakovsky which got her mistakenly branded as endorising the Soviet system which eventually led the editors of the important journal The Latest News to stop publishing her works which, via her literary earnings, had allowed her to support her family through her contributions.

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The Hands of Others by James Stockinger

It is in the hands of other people

that supply the needs of our bodies,

both in our infancy and beyond.

For each of us lives in and through

an immense movement

of the hands of other people.

The hands of other people lift us from the womb.

The hands of other people grow the food we eat,

weave the clothes we wear and

build the shelters we inhabit.

the hands of other people give pleasure to our bodies

in moments of passion

and aid and comfort in times of affliction and distress.

It is in and through the hands of other people

that the commonwealth of nature is appropriated

and accommodated to the needs of pleasures

of our seperate, individual lives, and,

at the end,

it is the hands of other people that lower us into the earth.

 

by James Stockinger