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

I have a holy Easter day.

Along the streets of left-alone Moscow
I will drive forth, and you will slowly go.
And none will lag behind along the road,
And on coffin's roof will thunder the first stone -
And sleep, self-loving and lonely
Will be resolved finally.
And nothing will be needed to Marina
Our newly-introduced ballerina.


5
Above the city Peter cursed to hell
Rolled the delirious thunder of the bells.

Turned over thundering the high tide of the sea
Above the woman that was rebuked by thee.

To Peter and to you, O Tsar, praise be!
But bells are higher still than both of ye.

While they are ringing still out of the blue -
Indisputable, Moscow's primogeniture.

And sixteen hundred churches, near and far
All laugh at puny hubris of the tsars.


6
The rain of bells drizzles above
The blue of near-Moscow groves.
Blind men wander the Kaluga road -

Beautiful - Kaluga - song, and the same
Washes and washes the names
Of peaceful wanderers, in darkness of ones praising God.

And I think at these times: Someday I
Of you, friends, and you, enemies, having tired,
And of compliance of Russian word -

A silver cross on my chest I will don
Cross myself and quietly go along
The old Kaluga road.


7
Seven hills - just like seven bells!
Belltowers on the seven bells.