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Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva

Poets (excerpt)

3

What can I do, blind and outcast
In a world where all are fathered and sighted,
Where passions go over anathemas
As if over embankments! Where a lament
Is called - sniffles!

What can I do, by rib and Providence
Singing! - Like a wire! Sunburn! Siberia!
I travel my delusions - like a bridge!
With their weightlessness
In a world of weights.

What can I do, singer and firstborn,
In a world where the blackest - is gray!
Where inspiration is kept, as in a thermos!
With this infinity
In a finite world?!

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Whence Cometh Such Tender Rapture?

Whence cometh such tender rapture?
Those curls--they are not the first ones
I've smoothened, and I've already
Known lips--that were darker than yours.

The stars have risen and faded,
--Whence cometh such tender rapture?--
And eyes have risen and faded
In face of these eyes of mine

I'd never yet hearkened unto
Such songs in the depths of darkness,
--Whence cometh such tender rapture?--
My head on the bard's own breast

Whence cometh such tender rapture?
And what's to be done with it, artful
Young vagabound, passing minstrel
With lashes--to long to say.

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To Asya

Evening noise in the burning sunset
On twilight of winter day.
The third call. Hurry, remember me,
You that are going away!
Emerald wave is awaiting you,
Splash of an oar of blue,
To live our life underground, difficult,
Was not possible to you.
Well then, ahead, that our murky struggle
Into our ranks never calls,
If the transparent wetness appeals to you
Flight of the silver seagulls!
Give my regards to the hot, the brilliant,
Burning sun,
Your question pose to all strong and bright -
Answer will come!
Evening noise in the burning sunset
On twilight of winter day.
The third call. Hurry, remember me,
You that are going away!

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To The Next One

Tender caresses of kind little sisters
Are ready for you.
With the birds' songs, O the charmed prince,
We're waiting for you.
Branch drunk with sun, you grew, visage of heaven
Before my eyes.
Like a girl tender, like a child quiet,
All - surprise.
They'll often say: 'These sisters are treacherous
In each reply!'
Cocky with daring ones, kids with a boy, timid
With someone shy.
We love, like you, melting clouds and birches
And melted snow.
We love the tales about grandmother's daughters,
Little and slow!
Pitiful is the wind, spring remembering,
Gems in the skies..
We wait for you, one that knows nothing of life,
And has blue eyes!

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Dis-stance: versts, miles

To B. Pasternak

Dis-stance: versts, miles...
They've dis-joined us, dis-mantled us,
So that we would be quiet,
At the world's farthest ends.

Dis-stance: versts, reaches...
They've disbanded, disrupted us,
Disunited and dissolved us,
Not knowing that we are an alloy

Of inspirations and sinews...
They haven't dispirited us, but they've dispersed us,
Dissected...
Wall and moat.
Displaced us, like eagles-

Conspirators: versts, reaches...
Not dismayed, but displanted.

[...] Read more

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Little World

Children - are staring of eyes so frightful,
Mischievous legs on a wooden floor,
Children - is sun in the gloomy motives,
Hypotheses' of happy sciences world.

Eternal disorder in the ring's gold,
Tender word's whispers in semi-sleep,
On the wall in a cozy child's room, the dreaming
Peaceful pictures of birds and sheep.

Children - is evening, evening on the couch,
In the fog, through the window, glimmer street lamps,
A measured voice of the tale of King Saltan,
Mermaid-sisters of seas from tales.

Children - is rest, brief moment of respite,
A trembling vow before God's eyes,
Children - are the world's tender riddles,
Where in the riddle the answer hides!

[...] Read more

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Prayer

Christ and the Lord! I thirst for marvel
Now, here, as the day would start!
The life is like a book to me,
So let me die. Let me depart.

You're wise, and sternly 'Now be patient,
Your time's not ripe' you will not say.
Yourself you gave me - too much now!
I thirst at once - for every way!

I want it all: with soul of gypsy
To run to plunder with a song,
To suffer for all near an organ,
To run to war, an Amazon;

To divine stars in a black tower
The kids through shadows to lead…
That yesterday would be a legend,
That each and every day be mad!

[...] Read more

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Meeting

Evening dimmed, like ourselves charmed
With this first warmth of the spring.
Stirring alive, Arbat was alarmed;
With sympathetic tenderness, the kind
Gale touched us with a tired wing.
In our souls, raised on a fairy tale,
Sorrow quietly cried for past things.

He came - so unexpected! So hurriedly -
He who helped in all things before.
And far off in a line unconsolably
The streetlamps' radiant dots
Burned though light darkness some more…
All around flowers we bought;
We bought a bouquet.. What for?

Quietly withered away unseen garden
In the sky violet-red.
How to be saved from late trouble?
All returned. For a moment? For long?

[...] Read more

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Conversation With A Genius

Like mountains - on this brow
Laurels of praise.
'I can't sing!'
- 'You will!' - 'Sound

(Put me on a diet
of flour!)
Like milk -
Is gone from my breast.

Empty. Dry.
In full-blown spring?
I feel like a twig.'
- 'That's an old song!

Drop it, don't blabber!'
'From now on I'd better -
Pound gravel!'
- 'All the more reason to sing!'

[...] Read more

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The Demon In Me

The demon in me's not dead,
He's living, and well.
In the body as in a hold,
In the self as in a cell.
The world is but walls.
The exit's the axe.
("All the world's a stage,"
The actor prates.)
And that hobbling buffoon
Is no joker;
In the body as in glory,
In the body as in a toga.
May you live forever!
Cherish your life,
Only poets in bone
Are as in a lie.
No, my eloquent brothers,
We'll not have much fun,
In the body as with Father's
Dressing-gown on.

[...] Read more

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