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

I don't need bliss that comes at the price of debasement.
I don't need love! I'm sorrowful - not for her.
In the quiet kingdom of beloved ghosts, only ghosts -
Give me my soul to give back, Savior!




To a Growing-Up One


Outside the window once again
A fir is lit by snow..
This cradle of yours, my dear friend,
Why did you outgrow?

The snowflakes fly, to all adhere,
And melt too fast to know..
What therefore for, you stupid one,
Did you it outgrow?

Days' weight upon it didn't press
T'was easy sleeping there,
And now your eyes have darker grown
And gold of your hair..

It burned your sight, but will it give
Happiness, this wide world?
Why, why did you outgrow
Your cradle, my dear girl?




Girl Death


With a milky and even wave
The moon washed the cold parquet.
I sweetly was sleeping under the moon,
To a hot cheek pressing a bouquet.

With light and with sleep doubly disturbed,
I opened the eyes sleepy,
And like a pink angel without wings
The Girl Death leaned to me.

Medallion trembles around the thin neck,
A blush on her cheeks pours,
It's visible, that she ran: dusted