"Marina Tsvetaeva. The Best (translated by Ilya Shambat) (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Rays are caressing the grass, from the street
Phrases and words...
Quietly I wander from porch to the barn,
Measuring boards.
Waves of Easter ringing, external dawn,
Like glow in the sky,
Sound of a gramophone of our neighbors
Bitterly cries,
From kitchen follows it endlessly woeful
Harmonica's sound,
Much has gone on, oh yes much has gone on..
The past, fall down!
No, I don't get help from eggs on the dish!
It's late... Gone are the rays..
What is more hopeless than Easter in April,
People, please say?




Contact through Dreams


All's for a moment, that people create,
Glimmer of new things dims,
But yet unaltered, like sorrow, remains
Contact through dreams.

Calming.. If but to forget.. but to sleep..
Sweetness of eyelids over eyes..
Dreams open fates of the future, and bind
For centuries.

All that I stealthily thought, is to me
Clear like a crystal clean.
Us, with a timeless and endless riddle,
United the dream.

I do not pray, "O God, make to vanish
Torment of coming day!"
Oh no, "Oh God, send to him about me
A dream," I pray.

May I get pale at the meeting with you -
Sorrowful is it to meet!
Secret is one: The contact through dreams. We are
Powerless before it.