Marina Tsvetaeva
Desk. 2. I celebrate thirty years...

2

I celebrate thirty years
of union truer than love
I know every notch in your wood.
You know the lines in my face.

Haven’t you written them there?
devouring reams of paper
denying me any tomorrow
teaching me only today.

You’ve thrown my important letters
and money in floods together,
repeating: for every single verse
today has to be the deadline.

You’ve warned me of retribution
not to be measured in spoonbills.
And when my body will be laid out,
great fool! Let it be on you then.

Translated by Elaine Feinstein