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.
«The first day I recall, ferocity of childhood, / Exhaustion and the darkness of the gulp divine, / The carelessness of arms, the heartlessness of heart, / That fell onto the chest, like hawk, like stone. And now — this time — trembling from heat and pity, / One: to howl like wolf, one:...»
«Night. North-East. The soldiers cry. Waves roar. / They bombed a wine warehouse. Along the walls, / Through ditches, runs a precious torrent / And in it dances bloody moon. The trunks of the poplars are mad. / Mad also in the night, birds sing. / Empty, yesterday's monument to the tsar, /...»
«Strong and wealthy have a hard time, / It is hard to all the lords. / I won't lower the light eyes / A red soldier before. City's moaning and carousing, / Moon in cloud made of wine. / Not a living soul will touch me: / Poor and arrogant am I.»
«A Cossack, a Cossack's son... / Thus the speech has begun. / Homeland. Darkness. Foe. / Everyone's heads fall down. Sound alarm, priests. / "There's no food." "Good." / Not a day should be lost! / A soldier must / Clean the horse...»