"Marina Tsvetaeva. The Best (translated by Ilya Shambat) (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора Thus you did lie in sprays of sea foam
Transfixing absent-mindedly Upon the sweet light-golden melons Of diamond and aquamarine The eyes forever semi-open So blue-and-grayish, bluish-green. The waves are just like rabid lions, The arrows of the sun did fly. And from intolerable blueness Too whitish, you did there lie. Behind the back, the desert, somewhere The station Djankoi had to be, And underneath your arm stretched out Melon grew golden quietly. Thus, calm and precious, you lie there, Don't give a glance and do not see, But look - and waves will heave with power, And mountains will be moved to sea. And new moons will in sky be burning, And joyful lions will lie down Of your head beautiful and young. To Byron I think about the morning of your glory, About the morning of your days too, when Like a demon you from sleep had stirred And were a god for men. I think of when your eyebrows came together Over the burning torches of your eyes, Of how the ancient blood's eternal lava Rushed through your arteries. I think of fingers - very long - inside The wavy hair, about all Eyes that did thirst for you in alleys And in the dining-halls. About the hearts too, which - you were too young then - |
|
|