From metaphor to explicature: a composition pattern of Marina Tsvetaeva’s poetry

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Józefina Inesa Piątkowska University of Warsaw “From metaphor to explicature: a composition pattern of Marina Tsvetaeva’s poetry” [in:] Relevance Studies in Poland: Exploring Translation and Communication Process 3, 2010: 203-215

From metaphor to explicature: a composition pattern of Marina Tsvetaeva’s poetry “Marina begins her poems with the high Do”, Anna Akhmatova once said, and her words have been interpreted many times ever since (a wide-known interpretation was given by Joseph Brodsky). The present author is inclined to regard this “high Do” as a metaphor. The trope could be compared here to the curtain which is being gradually raised in order to unveil the lyrical I of the speaker. In order to examine Tsvetaeva’s path from opening metaphor towards the explicit conclusion of her works, we will analyze one of her most famous poems, An Attempt at Jealousy (Popytka revnosti). We will also have a brief look at two examples: Bitterness! On your lips… (Goreč’, goreč’, večnyj privkus…) and Slipping Slugs of Days (Dnej spolzajuščie slizni…), as it seems important to note that the poet employes this pattern in different circumstances. First, however, let us focus on the notion of metaphor itself as it will help us see what consequences has the presence of metaphors for such a specific communicational structure as a poem. The term ‘metaphor’ usually associates with poetics, but it appears to be one of essential figures of ordinary language as well. Boris Pasternak found metaphorism to be “the natural consequence of the shortness of human life and of the vastness of his tasks, planned out for a long time ahead. Because of this discrepancy he is obliged to look at things with eagle-eyed sharpness and to explain himself in momentary illuminations that will be immediately comprehensible” (Пастернак 2001: 485 – my translation). Surprisingly, this quote, dated to 1940s, may be treated as beautifully sentenced relevance theory account of loose talk. The words are used here to convey a more general sense than the encoded one, as what the speaker aims at is not literal truthfulness, but optimal relevance, i.e. humans automatically aim at maximal cognitive effect (altering the individual's cognitive environment by adding new beliefs, cancelling old ones etc.) for minimal processing effort (effort of attention, memory and reasoning). As Sperber and Wilson remark, "[i]f verbal communication were guided by a presumption of literalness, than every second utterance should be treated as en exception." (Sperber and Wilson 1990) The extra processing effort that is ‘provoked’ by metaphors is compensated by considerably more spectacular cognitive effects. In conventional metaphors these effects usually include a strong implicature and several weak ones. Poetic metaphors, however, as Carston says: “fulfil the presumption of relevance, not through the communication of a few strong implicatures, but, rather, through a very wide range of weakly communicated implicatures.(...) they call for a special sort of measured effortful processing (with commensurately greater effects). A distinction is often made between time-limited comprehension and leisurely comprehension (...).” (Carston 2002, 352)

One of the key features of poetry is the fact that it presupposes multiple re-reading and even learning texts by heart. We will later observe how this need of the second reading, of turning back from the end to the initial strophes, could be exploited by Tsvetaeva for structuring her poems. In his lecture The Metaphor, Jorge Luis Borges noticed that “when something is merely said or – better still – hinted at, there is a kind of hospitality in our imagination” (Borges 2002, 31). While strong implicatures are said to be fully determinate and leaving little doubt that they fall within the speaker’s intention (Carston 2002, 141), weak implicatures encourage the hearer to search for more implications. What is interesting, in the case of metaphors the weakly communicated assumptions the reader arrives at may lead him to feel some mental closeness to the addresser. He might feel that the addresser has tried to communicate him more than she could or was allowed to. As Nam Sung Song remarks, “[t]hus metaphor may function to increase mental mutuality”. (Nam Sung Song 1993, 94) This "function" is highly important for the composition of poems.


Poems, like all texts, have a communicational structure involving addressers (senders) and addressees.1 In poems where the addresser is identified in the first person, the lyrical I exists only as long as she communicates. The more explicit are her utterances, the more responsibility she takes for their message and the more she is in the centre of the "speech act". Applying metaphors, in contrast, enshadows the lyrical I. The lyrical hero becomes “as if concealed in a picture puzzle, …broken down into a series of… parts, … replaced by surrounding objects…” (Jakobson 1969, 146-147). This is the “price” the speaker pays for the abovementioned "mental mutuality" which is achieved when the responsibility in searching for the implications is passed to the reader. First, however, it seems reasonable for the lyrical hero to clearly drive attention to himself, to somehow introduce himself. Generally, most poets usually show tendency to grow metaphors from the beginning toward the end of the poem, declining the explicitness of their texts. In order to illustrate such a pattern - which Tsvetaeva often reversed in her poems - let us analyze as an example the poem by Boris Pasternak called Hamlet. The initial stanza (despite the expression ‘to catch a sound’ which proceeds from everyday use and is not likely to be perceived as a trope) is of non-metaphorical character. What we are facing is barely the explicit description of what the speaker does: Гул затих. Я вышел на подмостки. Прислонясь к дверному косяку, Я ловлю в далеком отголоске, Что случиться на моем веку. [The rumbling has grown quiet. I walk out on the stage. Leaning against a door jamb, I try to catch in a distant echo What will happen in my lifetime.]2

The next part is already marked by tropes. Both the first and the last line contain metaphors. What is more, the last metaphor comes from the Bible, from Jesus’ pray that he said in the Olive Garden: На меня наставлен сумрак ночи Тысячью биноклей на оси. Если только можно, Авва Отче, Чашу эту мимо пронеси. [At me is aimed the murkiness of night; I'm pinned by a thousand opera glasses. If only it is possible, Abba, Father, May this cup be carried past me.]

Introduction of the quotation resulted in that the hearer is no longer able to identify who is the speaker. At the beginning one could point at Hamlet. Now it could also be Jesus or it could also be an actor starring in the Shakespearean play. The lyrical hero’s identity becomes blurred. It becomes the main source of ambiguity, which was said by Jakobson (1960) to be “an intrinsic, inalienable character of any self-focused message, briefly a corollary feature of poetry... Not only the message itself but the addresser and the addressee become ambiguous”. We have no clear idea whom the utterance is addressed to: to the audience, to Abba Father or to the whole of the humanity. The speaker’s identity is not revealed in the last stanza either. The lyrical hero concludes his monologue not with his own words but with the old Russian folk saying: “Жизнь прожить- не поле перейти” (‘To live a life is not to cross a field’). Но продуман распорядок действий, И неотвратим конец пути. Я один, все тонет в фарисействе. Жизнь прожить - не поле перейти.


The addresser is here the speaker – “the text-internal agency who acts as the subject, originator and ‘voice’ of the poetical text.” (Jahn 2002) (in the poems that we will analyse, the speaker talks in the first person, hence we also use the term “lyrical I”). The speaker’s communicational partner is an addressee – the one to whom the speaker directs her words. The addressee obviously should not be automatically identified with the reader, especially when we deal with the ‘overt’ thou, like in An Attempt at Jealousy. However, speaking in very general terms, both, the addressee and the reader, have a kind of similar task to do: to interpret the speaker’s utterance. 2


extracts come from the English translation by Eleanor Rowe

[But the order of the acts has been determined, And the ending of the journey cannot be averted. I am alone; all drowns in Pharisaism. To live life is not to cross a field.]

The speaker pronounces an echoic utterance. Such utterances become relevant when the speaker sees (or supposes) that the addressee is interested in some third person’s thought. As Sperber and Wilson point out: „the attitude expressed may be one of even reverence, as when popular wisdom or holy scriptures are echoed by a speaker who hopes thereby to command greater acquiescence than she would if she were merely to speak in her own voice”. (Sperber and Wilson 1990). The lyrical hero retreats into the background, claiming attention not to himself but to somebody else. One final note is in order. In the centre of the last stanza there is a metaphor: “all drowns in Pharisaism”. If everything drowns, then everything disappears. How, in this flood, could be rescued the image of the speaker? The answer is not easy. In the first stanza, right under the title Hamlet, the speaker walked out on the stage as the main and the only character. However, now we observe a sort of dissolution of lyrical I. What often takes place in Tsvetaeva’s poems is the reversal of the above illustrated general pattern. In her poems she grows implicatures. Towards the end of her poems the lyrical I unmasks herself and takes direct responsibility for the sense of the trope which appeared at the beginning. In order to examine how Tsvetaeva grows explicitness throughout her poems, we will analyze one of her most famous works, An Attempt at Jealousy. However, it is important to note that the poet employed her pattern in different ways. Hence we will first have a brief look at two examples: Bitterness! On your lips… and Slipping Slugs of Days. The valuable metaphors are generally said to reveal some non-trivial similarity between the things. At the first glance we could neglect the role of the metaphor that opens the poem: Горечь! Горечь! Вечный привкус На губах твоих, о страсть! [Bitterness! On your lips, passion – Is eternal aftertaste!]3

Aftertaste has always somehow to deal with lips and there is nothing very much revealing in setting juxtaposing passion or love with bitterness (the painful feeling of disappointment). The trope seems to contain a strong implicature that the aftertaste of something bitter gives the impressions similar to the bitterness left in consequence of a passion: it may make one’s lips wry, it is usually something unwanted, etc. The lyrical speaker does not burden her hearer with a huge processing effort nor with a greater responsibility for the interpretation of the message. The initial metaphor is, however, only the first step taken by the speaker on the way to unveiling her lyrical “me”. Far off, Tsvetaeva takes advantage of the essential property of poetry that had been already identified back in ancient times. While the word prose derives from Latin prosa and carries the meaning “moving forward, progressing”, verse meant in Latin “to turn”. The last lines of the poem make us turn back to the first ones. In the last stanza we find short metaphors (or even similes) that are thematically and lexically tied up with the first metaphor. The last two verses let us discover that the bitterness mentioned in the initial metaphor is a kind of grass that grows in meadows (горечь means also ‘white mustard’): С хлебом ем, с водой глотаю Горечь-горе, горечь-грусть. Есть одна трава такая На лугах твоих, о Русь. [With bread I eat, with water swallow Bitter woe, bitter sorrow. There is one such kind of grass, Mother Russia, on your meadows.]


extracts come from the Enlish translation by Ilya Shambat


Concluding her monologue with such a surprising assertion the lyrical hero moves forward to the first plan. The reader keeps his freedom of interpretation (e.g. he/she can play with the symbolism of white mustard), but the speaker gives him the direction how to think over the things that have been said. The poem Slipping slugs of days… lies upon the page in a simple visual pattern – two four-line stanzas. What we deal with could be called ‘strophic parallelism’. The similarity (analogy) in the structure of the two stanzas helps us to decode the meaning of the whole poem. The second, nonmetaphorical stanza corresponds to the first metaphorical one by offering the equivalent sense of the preceding utterance but in far more explicit terms. Both strophes have nearly parallel construction: the arrangement of metaphors corresponds to the arrangement of explicatures: Дней сползающие слизни, ...Строк поденная швея... Что до собственной мне жизни? Не моя, раз не твоя. И до бед мне мало дела Собственных... - Еда? Спанье? Что до смертного мне тела? Не мое, раз не твое. [Slipping slugs of days, …Everyday seamstress of verses… What do I care about my life? It’s not mine if it’s not yours. I don’t mind the troubles Of my own… - Food? Sleeping? What do I care about my mortal body? It’s not mine if it’s not yours.]

„Slipping slugs of days” could be identified with „mind the troubles of my own”, „everyday stuff” with „food, sleeping”, and such an ambiguous term as„life” with „mortal body”. Paraphrasing Boodberg, we can say that due to its increasing explicitness the second stanza turns out to be “the clue for the construction of the first”. The second stanza explains the message encoded in the preceding one. The strophic parallelism is stressed by anaphoric character of the third lines which start up with the same question phrase: “What do I care about…”. What is more, the last line of the second strophe is a simple repetition of the last line of the first one (to the exclusion of such details as grammatical gender, which is totally dependent on the gender of some noun present in previous text). This almost complete identity between final verses of both stanzas makes us project (or transfer) the meaning of the second stanza to the meaning of the first one. Let’s refer to Boodberg once again: “[parallelism] is intended to achieve a result reminiscent of binocular vision, the superimposition of two syntactical images in order to endow them with solidity and depth” (Jakobson 1960). Towards the end of the poem Tsvetaeva walks away from the initial sophisticated metaphors which results in a wide range of implicatures. In the second part of the poem she explicitly recites such expressions as „everyday troubles, mortal body, food”. What was metaphorical becomes explicit. The lyrical hero puts herself in the centre of attention and reveals herself in the light of her true and profane everyday reality. Let’s now turn to our immediate concern. In An Attempt at Jealousy we find the kind of composition that could be classified as bipolar. There is a striking contrast between the beginning and the end of the poem. It is a conceit metaphor (complemented by various implicit premises) that opens the poem and it is an explicit confession thrown into the addressee’s face that concludes it. The speaker consistently paves the way towards her final avowal with various suggestions, but refrains from any explicitness. The first thing that attracts the reader’s attention is the title. An impulse is given that the utterance is going to concern a relationship between two people, probably between (ex-)lovers. The Russian word revnost’ refers to the feelings that we have only for another human being. In Ozhegov’s dictionary we read that it means ‘painful doubts in someone’s fidelity or love’. If we compare two sentences: Ya revnuyu moyu zhenu [‘I’m jealous of my wife’] and Ya revuyu moyu mashinu [‘I’m jealous of my car’], the second one is conceivable only as a humorous expression, a joke. When one intends to


refer to a thing he is most likely to choose the verb zavidovat’ or the noun zavist’ – in order to express that he desires some unavailable possessions of his fellow-man. The title of the poem is, however, defective in the sense that it does not acknowledge us who, of whom and in relation to whom is jealous. We expect to learn it from the poem. Its opening lines are as follows: Как живется вам с другою,Проще ведь?- Удар весла!Линией береговою Скоро ль память отошла Обо мне, плавучем острове (По небу - не по водам)! Души, души!- быть вам сестрами, Не любовницами - вам! [How is it living with another? Simple isn't it? A stroke of the oar And soon even the memory of me Is left behind with the line of the shore, A floating island (In the sky, not in the water)! Spirits, spirits, they will be sisters, Not lovers to you, ever!]4

The poet tricks us. The first verse offers us an open question asked to an unknown ‘thou’ [vy]: “How is your living with another?”, but then, right away, we deal with a metaphor. The trope is as surprising as “a stroke of the oar” and could be classified as a conceit metaphor: it is unusually fanciful, extended throughout two stanzas and highlighted, in a sense, by interstrophic enjambment. At one point of this complex metaphor the lyrical hero identifies herself with an island. She brings about here the symbol of “solitude, particularity, loneliness, escape from the world (…)” (Kopaliński 1990, 482). It seems that the speaker wants to isolate herself from someone – from the ‘thou’ who is absent in the metaphor, but whose presence is implied in several ways. Sometimes the silence might say more than words. Through the conceit metaphor the poet enumerates several details: an oar, an island, a shore-line, waters. What is obviously missing in this description is the boat and the one who rows it. What is more, the “wholistic”/integral structure of the metaphor is somehow emphasized by the inside comparison „линией береговою память отошла” [‘the memory is left behind with (as) the line of the shore’], which is based on the Russian instrumental case. Such grammatical construction stands here for a sort of background against which the absence of the adressee becomes particularly, doubly remarkable. In order to see how the instrumental case of comparison implies the existence of the speaker’s lover (‘the oarsman’), let us briefly examine first the semantics and pragmatics of this case in Russian language. The problems of Russian instrumental case (IC) has been broadly discussed in linguistics. The scholars were taken by “its ambiguity and the wide range of its potential functional and semantic shades” (Mrazek 1964, 16). On the other hand, not infrequent are examples where IC is used quite unambiguously (Zel´dovič 2005, 42). The list of different kinds of IC includes the instrumental of place, time, manner, cause or instrument. Instrumental case may occasionally appear in some specific meanings. Zeldovich (Zel´dovič 2005, 67) argues that the key to this „multifaciality” lies in pragmatics: the use of the IC always bears the same semantics; the additional effects arise, where IC can be set against some other prepositional forms of the same noun. According to Zeldovich, the IC and another noun form may constitute a completely regular Horn scale, which has been defined as an ordered n-tuple of expression alternates, where every following expression implies its predecessor. As Levinson (2000) points out, scalar items must belong to from the same semantic field (must be “about” the same semantic relation) and the assertion of a lower ranking member implicates that the speaker is not in a position to assert a higher ranking one.


extracts come from the English translation by Frank Anderton


In our example, the IC of comparison forms the scale with the kak-construction (similar to likeconstruction). Such constructions generally give us two pieces of information: a) X and Y are being compared b) the comparison concerns only one feature P (or not all of the features of X and Y). The same as in ordinary Horn scales, the IC stands usually for the weaker element that “deprives” the hearer of certain information. As it would run counter to mother wit here if the notion of comparison were omitted, the IC cancels information b) which says that the comparison concerns only one feature. (Zel´dovič 2005, 92) The application of IC of comparison means that X and Y are being compared totally, that the comparison is multi-aspectual. How the above presented considerations relate to our metaphor? The IC implies multiaspectuality of the comparison. The memory is being treated as something closed and complete like the shore line of an island. Like the shore line from which we draw away the memory can decay. In the poem discussed the island does not disappear forever under the waters, like Atlantide. The shore line disappears from the sight of the person who looks towards it. Hence it probably disappears from the eyes of the addresser who drifts away rowing his boat (as there was the mention of the oar early in the metaphor). Of course, we can only guess about the presence of the ex-lover, he exists only on the level of implicatures. Let us repeat here our claim: the IC of comparison is here a kind of background against which the absence of the adressee becomes particularly remarkable. If it enforces the multifaciality of the metaphor in question, it is all the more expected that every important part of the relevant picture would be mentioned. Still, this is not the case. As we have already noticed, the speaker isolates herself from her ex and his new lover. She makes no mention about them, which is tantamount to additionally distancing herself from the addressee. Tsvetaeva's isolated herself from her beloved by not mentioning his existence in the extended opening metaphor. If the man and his new partner are mentioned, they either appear in explicit utterances, or in very simple metaphors neither calling for a greater processing effort, nor offering any wide spectrum of implicatures. They are not of the conceit character and might be named "local" (they do not spread throughout verses or strophes). Still, this is not the end of the story. Although in some sense “banished” from the outhor’s world, her ex-lover is not totally forgotten. The author takes some care of him, but in a very implicit way. First, let it be noted that in the next stanzas dative –sja construction is vastly present. The speaker keeps repeating the question „Как живется вам?” [‘How is your living?’]. Sometimes it comes with further bizarre-sounding inquieries: как хлопочется, eжится, встается, здоровится, можется, поется? Как живется вам - хлопочется Ежится? Встается - как ? С пошлиной бессмертной пошлости Как справляетесь, бедняк?

Or: Как живется вам с товаром Рыночным? Оброк - крутой? После мраморов Каррары Как живется вам с трухой Гипсовой? [How's your life? Busy? Huddled? Waking up ... how? Taxed by the undyingly trivial How do you cope with it, poor man? Or: Are you sated with the novelty of The market? Grown cold to magic, How is it living with an earthly Woman, one without a sixth Sense?]


The bizarreness of как встается [‘how is your waking up’], etc. consists in that the –sja construction is normally intended to refer to some reasonably difficult action. Thus, the confession like Mne ploho chitaetsa [‘It’s hard for me to read’] implies that the speaker reads a complicated writing that is more likely to be Kant than sport news. When Tsveateva uses the -sja form to ask how basic activities go, she implies that those activities may happen to be troublesome for the hearer. Maybe in new circumstances, in his life with the new woman, the everyday little things become a challenge. The other side of the coin is this. The discussed construction always convey the speaker’s empathy with the subject. As A.Israeli notes, “the use of this form presupposes closeness between the speaker [Ps – Speaker participant, here: the lyrical hero] and the participant of the narrated even [Pn, here: the ex-beloved]. This becomes obvious when other elements of an utterance indicate that there is a Ps/Pn distance.” (Israeli 1997, 138)

To quote from Israeli’s work, „(46) [*] Bol’nomu stalo legce dysat’sja. ‘It is easier for the patent to breathe.’ (47) Bol’nomu stalo legce dysat’. ‘It is easier for the patient to breathe.’ Even eliminating the infinitive, as in (48), does not make the sentence acceptable, while a question form, as in (49), does: (48) ? Bol’nomu uze legce dysitsja. ‘Now it is easier for the patient to breathe.’ (49) Nu cto, uze legce dysitsja? ‘Well, is it easier to breathe?’ In (48), Ps designates the Pn in a way that indicates distance; a doctor or a nurse might call him that, not a narrator of a story. In (49), the lack of an address form and the familiar no cto point to a Ps/Pn closeness, which allows the presence of a –sja form.” (Israeli 1997, 139)

A statement such as Jemu tazhelo zhivetsa s nowoj zhenshchinoj [‘It’s hard for him to live with his new wife’]can be made only if at least one of two conditions is met: a) He confessed so, b) the speaker (here: the lyrical hero) can claim an intimate involvement between herself and the Pn or is putting herself in his shoes. Concerning the fact that in the poem the relevant utterances are interrogative: “Как живется вам с другою?” [‘How is it living with another?’], etc. we have to exclude from our interpretation the point a). The presupposition of closeness between the speaker and the addressee, however, remains significant. At the same time we can perceive some sort of empathy that the speaker feels towards her object of jealousy. The lyrical hero somehow identifies herself with the ex-lover. She kind of tries to look at things from his point of view. Nonetheless, the empathy remains very implicit. It is rather the reader who bears responsibility for such interpretation. To sum up, in initial stanzas there is an implicit conflict between the “banishment” of the addressee in the extended metaphor and the empathy with the addressee conveyed by dative –sja constructions. There is a conflict here, but it is in some sense unarticulated, or at least underarticulated. The situation is different in the last stanza. Tsvetaeva abandons her poetic artifice and turns from metaphorical utterances to full explicitness. The poem ends up with the direct question whether the beloved’s life is as though as the speaker’s life with another man. Ну, за голову: счастливы? Нет? В провале без глубин Как живется, милый? Тяжче ли, Так же ли, как мне с другим?


[Are you happy now, in your mind? No? In a failure without end How is your life, dear? As difficult As mine with another man?]5

It is also the first time here when Tsvetaeva stops referring to her addressee with Vy – form and openly calls him milyi (‘dear’). In the opening metaphor we could only make guesses about the existence of beloved, while now he is mentioned with one of the warmest names. Also the empathy which has been implicated by the –sja forms is now confirmed by the phrase: “as difficult as mine”. The fact that the poet talks here of difficulty proves that we have been on the right way concluding that all the everyday activities are by no chance easy for the addressee. Thus, An Attempt at Jealousy evolves along the same above established pattern: from implicitness to self-revelation of the lyrical hero, from tendency towards generation of multifarious and mostly weak implicatures towards greater responsibility of the author. In this paper we sought to show that some prominent features of Tsvetaeva’s poetics can be captured in terms of Relevance Theory. It is in terms of implicatures and the speaker’s responsibility for what is conveyed that we obtain an objective, non-impressionistic view of Tsvetaeva’s compositional strategy, which consists in revealing, in the stead of solving the initially suggested conflict.

References Borges, Jorge Luis. 2002. The metaphor. In The craft of verse, edited by C.-A. Mihalescu. Cambridge: Harvard University Press Carston, Robyn. 2002. Thoughts and utterances: The pragmatics of explicit communication. Oxford: Blackwell. Israeli, Alina. 1997. Semantics and pragmatics of the “reflexive” verbs in Russian. Munchen: Verlag Otto Sagner. Jakobson, Roman. 1960. Linguistics and poetics. In Style in Language. edited by T. A. Sebeok. Cambridge: MIT Press, Jakobson, Roman, 1969. The prose of Borin Pasternak. In Pasternak. Modern jugements, edited by D. Davie and A. Livingstone. Nashville/London: Aurora Publishers Jahn, Manfred. 2002. A Guide to the theory of poetry. Part I. Poems, plays, and prose: A guide to the theory of literary genres. English Department, University of Cologne, Kopaliński, Władysław. 1990. Słownik symboli. Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna Levinson, Stephen C. 2000. Presumptive meanings. The theory of generalized conversational implicature. Massachusetts: Institute of Technology Mrazek, Roman. 1964. Sintaksis russkogo tvoritel'nogo. Praha: Statni pedag. naklad Nam, Sung Song. 1998. Metaphor and Metonymy. In Relevance Theory. Applications and implications, edited by R.Carston and Se.Uchida. John Benjamins B.V 1998. Wharton, T. 2006, Lexical pragmatics and metaphor. Relevance Theory: Handout lecture notes.



extract come from the Enlish translation by Andrey Kneller

Pasternak, Boris. 1946. Hamlet. Translated by Eleanor Rowe, Sperber, Dan and Deirdre Wilson. 1990. Rhetoric and Relevance. In The ends of rhetoric: History, theory, practice, edited by D.Wellbery and J. Bender. Stanford: Stanford University Press, Tsvetaeva, Marina. 2002. The Best of Marina Tsvetaeva. Translated by Ilya Shambat, Zel´dovič, Gennadij M. 2005. Russkoe predikativnoe imja. Torun: Wydawnictwo UMK. Пастернак, Борис. 2001. Замечания к переводам Шекспира [in:] Я понял жизни цель. Москва: Эксмо-Пресс


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