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

That he would not for too long shiver
On this first snow.

Warm, melt the icy blood inside him
With breath of body and of soul!
But if at once the love inside is
Already cold -

To lover - love the brother even,
The child on forehead wears a wreath -
He can hug no one in the coffin
After his death.

Ah, he, whom you so loved, for whose sake
You would have gone into hell's vault -
That he is now in a coffin
Is not his fault!

From rustling of steps and of dress
Trembling from head down to your feet -
How he'd discover your embraces,
Whene'er could he!

O women! For each one among you
He became ash and madness all!
With what thirst, fully, did he love you,
You must recall!

Recall, how you caught
From his eyes each look,
Recall the former vows you've spoken
In the night's dark.

Thus you will not become disloyal
Before his cross so nondescript,
And each should quietly remember
His lip.

And before rushing onwards
In sled with gypsy bell, go slow,
And with your faces fall down
Into night snow.

Let it your cheeks tenderly sprinkle,
And melt in droplets near your eyes..
I am among you one as I am
Writing these lines -

I won't break vows I have not taken -
Life - your brown eyes -