"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! 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 - |
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