O Muse of Tears…
Tsvetaeva
…I turned away from everything,
From earth’s every blessing.
The stump in the water became
The guardian spirit of this place.
We are akin to guests on this planet,
To live – is simply a habit.
In the air I seem to hear
Two voices exchanging thought.
Two? ...But by the eastern wall,
Among its tangle of raspberries,
There’s a branch of elder, fresh and dark.
Ah! It’s a message from Marina.
...И отступилась я здесь от всего,
От земного всякого блага.
Духом, хранителем «места сего»
Стала лесная коряга.
Все мы немного у жизни в гостях,
Жить — это только привычка.
Чудится мне на воздушных путях
Двух голосов перекличка.
Двух? А еще у восточной стены,
В зарослях крепкой малины,
Темная, свежая ветвь бузины...
Это — письмо от Марины.
«Two girls were tossing dahlias while passing. / They tossed them sparingly upon the lane. / The women shook their heads and said with sadness: / "Bouquets are pricey now — it's such a shame..." / / The street looked on with hungry discomposure. / They watched the little girls who led ...»
«Horses do know how to swim, but / They're not very good. They don't go far. / / One more thing that's easy to remember: / "Gloria" means "glory" or "grandeur". / / Far across the sea a ship was sailing, / Proud of its bold title and its might. / / In the hold, a thousand horses ...»
«We've still got some time left to mend it: / A whole quarter left, nothing less, — / To mend and unbend and defend it, / Reinstitute plebs and noblesse. / / But I'd rather not have another. / I carved my own way in this one, / And if I could do it all over, / I'd do what I've alre...»
«I think of the dawn of your glory, / Of the dawn of your days, / When you awoke from sleep as a demon / And a god for mankind. / / I think of the way your brows / Were knitted above the torches that were your eyes, / And of the ancient blood that, like lava, / Flowed inside your vei...»