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

Under train's noise to swim to far-off days,
Still foggy, to trust marvels is so sweet.
World is so wide! Maybe within it you
I will forget?

The train's darkness presses on the shoulders,
Into window pours a torrent of the fog...
My distant friend, please fathom - self-deception
Is all this talk!

Why the new land? The glimmer of same stars,
Same laughter, war with boredom, everywhere,
And your sweet gesture will be as a torment
Here, like there.




x x x


It is true, is it not, that our souls are not used yet to parting?
With a shimmer of glimmering wings they each other call!
Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly interwoven,
But forgot the remembering souls.

Every evening, lit up by the will of a sorceress gentle.
Every evening, when over the hills, in the heart, stands the fog,
To the soul not forgetting the former deception comes near
With a meek and not confident walk.

Like the wind, that with sharp gusts awakens the things of times prior,
From the glimmering lines your are smiling at me once again.
All is permitted, all! You from dream, I in dream. Will not judge us
The angst of the day.

Someone higher betrayed us to nameless delicious torment,
(Many wanderings blunderings through dark and snow there will be!)
Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly intevowen...
Not responsible for this are we!




Except for Love


Did not love, did not weep. Oh no, did not love, but regardless
I have showed in the shadows the beloved likeness to you.
In our sleep all things did not appear like love: