Boris Pasternak
- To Marina Tsvetaeva, by Don Mager
(You have a right, turning out your pockets...)
Boris Pasternak (français)
- A Marina Tsvetaïeva, Henri Deluy
(C’est ton droit, tu as retourné tes poches, et...)
«Through the consoling April sun / the breeze, so very unconsoling, / a sandy whirlwind on the road — / shutting up the chattering starling. Up above the northern latitudes, / dark grey clouds are bulking high. / Bowler hats get pulled down tight — / but these two dandies let theirs ...»
«Step over, leap across, / fly beyond, however you like, get through it — / but tear yourself off: be a stone from a sling, / be a star that breaks away from the night... / You lost it yourself — now look for it. God knows what you grunt to yourself, / looking for spectacles or keys.»
«Yes, yes! In blind and tender passion / wear out the pain, burn out the fire; / rip your heart up, like a letter, / lose your mind, and then expire. And then? Once more to roll away / the gravestone that lies over you; / to love once more, and flash your feet / upon a stage of moonlit b...»
«Enter bringing me a dream, / or some gorgeousness from hell, / or bring me God if you're from Him, / but little acts of meaning well, / leave on the hatstand in the hall. / Here on this pea we call the earth, / either be angel or be demon, / but to be human — what's the worth / of ...»