Marina Tsvetaeva
Girlfriend
“I will not part! There is no end!” She clings and clings… And in the breast the rise Of threatening waters, Of notes…Steadfast: like an immutable Mystery: we will part!
Whence Cometh Such Tender Rapture?
Whence cometh such tender rapture? Those curls they are not the first ones I’ve smoothened, and I’ve already Known lips that were darker than yours. The stars have risen and faded, Whence cometh such
Little World
Children – are staring of eyes so frightful, Mischievous legs on a wooden floor, Children – is sun in the gloomy motives, Hypotheses’ of happy sciences world. Eternal disorder in the ring’s gold, Tender
The Window
In the sweet, Atlantic Breathing of spring My curtain’s like a butterfly, Huge, fluttering Like a Hindu widow To a pyre’s golden blaze, Like a drowsy Naiad To past-window seas.
Grey Hairs
These are ashes of treasures: Of hurt and loss. These are ashes in face of which Granite is dross. Dove, naked and brilliant, It has no mate. Solomon’s ashes Over vanity that’s great. Time’s
Much Like Me
Much like me, you make your way forward, Walking with downturned eyes. Well, I too kept mine lowered. Passer-by, stop here, please. Read, when you’ve picked your nosegay Of henbane and poppy flowers, That
The Demon In Me
The demon in me’s not dead, He’s living, and well. In the body as in a hold, In the self as in a cell. The world is but walls. The exit’s the axe. (“All
To Mother
In the old Strauss waltz for the first time We had listened to your quiet call, Since then all the living things are alien And the knocking of the clock consoles. We, like you,