He marked with coal, as I languished,
A target on my left side
To shoot and free the bird — my anguish
Into the empty night.
Your hand won’t tremble in the least,
My dear! I won’t suffer long.
The bird — my anguish will soar, released,
To perch and sing its song.
This will cause him to say it aloud,
The one who is home and content:
“A familiar voice, but I can’t make it out,” —
And lower his eyes again.
Углем наметил на левом боку
Место, куда стрелять,
Чтоб выпустить птицу — мою тоску
В пустынную ночь опять.
Милый! не дрогнет твоя рука,
И мне недолго терпеть.
Вылетит птица — моя тоска,
Сядет на ветку и станет петь.
Чтоб тот, кто спокоен в своем дому,
Раскрывши окно, сказал:
«Голос знакомый, а слов не пойму», —
И опустил глаза.
«To the memory of Marina Tsvetaeva As twenty-two years ago / No matter what the name, think death, no matter / What petal, 'tis in flames and under soles. / And yet to me, amid this groan and clatter, / Another loss outvoices all the tolls. / Why wasn't I – an arrow – meant to perish...»
«A lone white sail steadfastly glistens / Through azure mists afar at sea. / What does it seek in far-off distance? / What has it lost in native realm? The waves break fast, the wind is clipping, / The mast is creaking as it sways. / Alas, it seeks no blissful being, / Nor does it run fr...»
«I’m sad, because I love you way too much to bear, / And I’m aware: the baleful rumor mill won’t spare / Your blooming youth. And soon your destiny will reckon / Your recompense for all blithe days for all sweet seconds. / With bitter tears and rueful sorrow you’ll repay. / I am sa...»
«What am I for, me, just a grain? / I'm living toiling hard with care, / For happiness I spend my life in vain, / I'm never pleased, weep on in my despair! What do I seek? Do I want more? / Where is my place? What am I for? There is a kin who die to seize / All proper answers in a blink. ...»