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

And I was born.

Hundreds of belltowers
Argued at least.
It was the Saturday:
John the Baptist.

And in my teeth now
I want to crush
The hot ashberry's
Bitter brush.



From Cycle "Insomnia"



1
In a shady ring my eyes
She surrounded - insomnia.
With a shady wreath insomnia
Did my eyes bind.

At night - the same!
To idols don't pray.
Idol-worshipper - I'll give
Your secret away.

To you - day's not enough,
Fire of sun above!

You pale-faced one, wear
My rings' pair!
You screamed - and proclaimed
The wreath of shade.

Enough - did you - call me?
Enough - did you - sleep with me?

People bow to you.
Light in face you'll lie.
I'll be reader to you,
I, insomnia:

Sleep, soothed,
Sleep, rewarded one,
Sleep, wreathed,
Woman.