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

Both day and night, in word and letter both:
For truth of yes and no,
For that though I am but twenty I am
So often in such sorrow,

For unavoidably my slights and trespasses
Will be forgiven me -
For all of my impetuous tenderness
And look too proud and free -

For quickness of events as they come rushing,
For truth, for play, say I -
Please hear me! But do also please love me
For this that I will die.




x x x


Thus to thirst life: And to be tender
And rabid and noisy,
To be intelligent and charming -
Gorgeous to be!

More tender than what are or have been,
Guilt not to know...
This, that in graveyard all are equal,
Angers me so.

To be what nobody holds dear -
Like ice become!
Not knowing what has come before now
Nor what will come,

To forget how the heart broke and
Grew back together,
To forget both the words and voice
And shine of hair.

Bracelet of ancient turquoise
On the stem, on
This my white arm
Narrow and long...

Like painting over a cloud
From afar,
One took the mother-of-pearl pen
In one's arm,