Marina Tsvetaeva
I will not say a thing about your wayward...

Magdalene

3

I will not say a thing about your wayward
path, for now you are fine, my dear.
I was barefoot, but you shod me
with cascades of hair —
and tears.

Nor will I ever ask you at what cost
you bought these fragrances and oils.
I was naked, but you engulfed
me like a wave — you formed
my roof and walls.

I will caress your naked body now —
softer than water and lower than grass.
I was upright, but you forced me down
and warped me with your tenderness.

Set aside this flax and make my swaddling
by tearing out a patch of hair.
Anointer! What use to me is ointment?
Your very body washed me
like a wave.

Translated by Jamie Olson