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

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Azure are the fields, where our dreaming had met.
Don't rush my memory!
Be truthful: Anew you'll touch the silver cup
Not soon with a one such as me.

All's destroyed, not by our volition. And sweet
Is the sigh over lost heaven! May be! -
You're all - May's! For you is my sorrow of May.
All that's dreamed of in May is for thee.

Here we don't need to rendezvous. Truly, we'll meet
Where the truth with the truth I shall meet;
Every evening on bridges shaky and light
We come out one another to greet.

A familiar figure I'll see from afar -
Heart beats rarely, then frequently, though...
Like before you're not wrathful, not vengeful, oh no!
And your eyes are the same, full of woe.

These are dreams. To us both the night is still dear,
Bravely breaking all barriers so.
But the image of her that could not lie, my friend,
Once awakened, don't chase like a foe.

And when he will appear in the evening shade
Under call of a previous song,
Nod to happiness that has elapsed with a smile
And recall without rage the one gone.




Hello from a Train


Louder is noise, as if taller than buildings,
Train is shivering for the final time,
Final time... we're riding... now my winter
Dream, say goodbye!

My winter dream, good to the point of tears,
From you fortune is bearing me away.
Judged in this way! I need no dream nor burden
Along the way.