The Window

In the sweet, Atlantic
Breathing of spring
My curtain's like a butterfly,
Huge, fluttering
Like a Hindu widow
To a pyre's golden blaze,
Like a drowsy Naiad
To past-window seas.

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Girlfriend

"I will not part! -- There is no end!" She clings and clings...
And in the breast -- the rise
Of threatening waters,
Of notes...Steadfast: like an immutable
Mystery: we will part!

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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You who loved me with the falseness

You who loved me with the falseness
Of truth - and the truth of lies.
You who loved me-beyond
Anything!-Over the edge!
You who loved me beyond
Time-Right hand, wave!
You love me no more:
The truth in five words.

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Tryst

In a world where all
Are hunched and lathered
I know only one
Equal to me in strength.

In a world where we
Seek so much,
I know only one
Equal to me in might.

In a world where everything
Is mold and vines,
I know: only
You are equal in essence

To me.

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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From Four Till Seven

Like in a mirror, there's shade in the heart
I'm bored alone - and with men…
Slowly drags the light of the day
From four till seven!
Everybody is cruel in the dusk,
Don't go to people - they'll lie.
Fingers have wound into a knot
The kerchief. I want to cry.
Only don't torture me so,
If you hurt me I'll forgive!
From four till seven o'clock
I endlessly grieve.

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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For my poems, written so early

For my poems, written so early
That I didn't even know I was a poet,
Hurled like drops from a fountain,
Like sparks from rockets,

That burst like tiny devils,
Into the sanctuary of sleep and incense,
For my poems about youth and death
-- For my unread poems!

Scattered in dusty bookstores,
Where no one ever buys them!
For my poems, like precious wines,
A time will come.

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Dialogue Between Hamlet And His Conscience

- She's- She's in the riverbed, in algae
And weeds...She went to them
To sleep, - but there's no sleep there, either!
- But she's the one I loved
Like forty thousand brothers
Couldn't love!
- Hamlet!
She's in the riverbed, in algae:
Algae! . . And her last garland
Has surfaced in the logs by the bank...
- But she's the one I loved
Like forty thousand...
- Less,
Even so, than a single lover.
She's in the riverbed, in algae.
- But she's the one -

I loved??

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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New Moon

Over meadow stands new moon,
Over boundary of dew.
Come, we'll make a friend of you,
Dear, distant, alien.

In the day I hide, am quiet.
Moon above - I have no might!
I rush on this lunar night
To the shoulder of beloved.

I'll never ask me, 'Who's he?'
All to know, your lips will say!
Hugs are rude but in the day,
In the day the fit is funny.

In the day, torn by a demon proud,
With a smile on lips I lie.
Night, though.. Darling, far away..
Crescent stands above the wood!

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Grey Hairs

These are ashes of treasures:
Of hurt and loss.
These are ashes in face of which
Granite is dross.
Dove, naked and brilliant,
It has no mate.
Solomon's ashes
Over vanity that's great.
Time's menacing chalkmark,
Not to be overthrown.
Means God knocks at the door
-- Once the house has burned down!
Not choked yet by refuse,
Days' and dreams' conqueror.
Like a thunderbolt -- Spirit
Of early grey hair.
It's not you who've betrayed me
On the home front, years.
This grey is the triumph
Of immortal powers.

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Before A Little Coffin

Mother has painted the coffin brightly.
The tiny one sleeps in Sunday attire.
Onto the forehead no longer is falling
The light-brown hair;

A round comb no longer is pressing,
Having seen so little, of the child's head;
Only of joy knew
The heart of the kid.

For five years so happily lived she
Much played the deft arms!
Fantasies, fantasies mid lilies,
Nobody disturbed them.

The flowers seek a place nearer to her,
(She seems tight in her new bed).
The flowers know: Little Katya
A golden heart had.

poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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