Josef Hora

Josef Hora (8 July 1891 – 21 June 1945) was a Czech poet, literary critic and translator.

Biography

Early life Josef Hora was born in Dobříň, Litoměřice District, Bohemia in a farmstead, which now houses the Museum of Josef Hora. His father soon sold the house in the village and the family moved to Prague. In 1896, his parents broke up and Josef with his mother returned first to Dobříň and then to Roudnice where Josef studied at a gymnasium. Here he tried to write poetry and he even published his experiments in a ladies´ magazine. In 1910, he was enrolled at the Law Faculty of Charles University in Prague. He joined the social democratic party in 1912 and started writing for its papers and magazines.

Communist career and the schism from the Party After graduating from a university (1916) with the help of Ivan Olbracht, He made a trip to the USSR in 1925 that showed him not only the successes of the new regime (he was part of a delegation) but also its problems with democracy. Hora stopped writing proletarian poetry and in 1929 he and several other Czech writers (Jaroslav Seifert, Vladislav Vančura, S.K. Neumann, Marie Majerová, Ivan Olbracht and his wife Helena Malířová) expressed disapproval with the new Stalinist leadership of Klement Gottwald. They were all expelled from the party and set at variance with ten other left-wing authors (among them Vítězslav Nezval, Karel Konrád, Julius Fučík and Jiří Weil). Josef Hora wrote an essay about the situation called Literature and Politics.

1930s, against Nazism and Hora's death In 1933, Hora became an editor of the cultural pages of the České slovo newspaper He exchanged more conservative Jaroslav Durych as a president of the Literary department of Art Forum and from his post helped many people afflicted with war, especially during Heydrich′s protectorship risking his life. In 1941, he withdrew from public life partly due to intensive intervention of Nazi censorship in the Czech press and partly due to his illness.

Kristus na rozcestíChrist at the Parting of the WaysJdou semo tamo. Každý jde někam. V každém je nějaké úsilí. A já tu visím. Já v hloží tu čekám na ty, kdo ke mně se uchýlí.They go here and there. Each with a fate. Each at their own pace. And I am hanging here in thorns to wait If any of them comes and prays.Všude a všude jsou trápení velká. Shrbeni, podryti, jdou kolem mne: Dělník, obchodník, učitel, selka, cizí si v bolesti vzájemné.Each of the passers-by has a different life So often hard to live: A worker, a tradesman, a teacher, a farmer's wife All foreigners in grief.Přejdou, zajdou, nezastaví se. Nepochopí člověk člověka. Dávno už pokrm na jedné míse u jednoho stolu jich nečeká.They come and pass without a date To get to know each other Never eating from a common plate Every day being farther.Radosti, ani ty mi tu nepostojíš, plachá, sobecká, prchavá? Od kdy i ty se družnosti bojíš, sama pro sebe šumící doubrava?Joy, not even you stop here So shy, selfish and flowing? From when of all company you fear A candle just for itself glowing?Lásko, alespoň ty, dítě boží, pozdrž se pode mnou! Neoděna projdeš mé hloží, silna přitažlivostí tajemnou.Love, what about you, a child of God, will you save the Earth? Oh, in birthday suit on air you trod just near my thorny berth.Zítra, dar tvůj, přemilé pacholátko, pod planou jabloní tu u nohou mých snad si pohraje krátko a mateřídouškou mi zavoní.Your little baby in another time here under the apple tree will bring the smell of mother-thyme to all the people and to me.

Two strophes from Máchovské variace (part III, 1936) present one of Hora′s views of the nature of Czech Romantic poet Karel Hynek Mácha on the occasion of the centenary of his death: Básníku, jako tebe rve mě průvan hlubiny tvé tichý. Vězení žárlivosti tvé, vězení šílené tvé pýchy,O, poet, I am drowning in the sea Of your soul torn by its deepest tide. A prisoner of your jealousy, A prisoner of your frantic pride,vězení lásky, zazděné do tmy, z níž nic jen ozývá se, pláč kořisti, pád kamene, jenž prázdnem rozbije se v čase.A prisoner of love, all alone In darkness without a single sound But weeping of a prey, falling of a stone Into the hollowness of time around.

"Shadow" is a poem from the collection Struny ve větru ("Strings in the Wind", 1927), acclaimed by critics (e.g. F.X. Šalda ) and poets (e.g. Vladimír Holan

StínShadowKvět, když je listopad, jenom bojácně kvete. Stín jako ratolest spad a rozčís vzduch.A flower, when it is November. Seems sheepish in the bloom. A shadow was cast on the ground As austerely as dice.Poutníci po polích, pluh, lovcův pes a vítr a světlo váhá, jak bzukot unavených much.Pilgrims on the fields, A plough, a hunter′s dog, a wind, And the light hesitates a while As the buzz of tired flies.Kam jdeš? Se srdcem v podpaží k teplému domu klopýtám. Na vyšlapaném zápraží tam pláče s hlasem hlas.Where are you going? With heart under my arm I am trudging to the warmth of a house. On the worn-out threshold Weeping voices sound.Stín jen tak tak že neporazil nás.The shadow nearly Bore us down.