Marina Tsvetaeva
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 — too long to say.

Translated by unknown author