Marina Tsvetaïeva (français)
- Dans la brume un monde s’élance — nomade..., Henri Abril
Marina Cvetaeva (italiano)
- Un mondiale nomadismo e` cominciato nel buio..., Pietro Antonio Zveteremich
«The measured sound of wheels, / The field, the row of birches, / And many muddled feelings; / Race past, race past, race past. The measured noise and hum, / The sky’s impending horizon, / And many muddled thoughts; / Further! Farther! Distant!»
«Not like other people, not every week, / Not all the time, in a century but twice, / I prayed to you: please intelligibly / Reiterate the words of creation. Unbearable to you are the admixtures / Of intimacies and people's slavishness. / How could you possibly make me happy? / With what...»
«Spring, coming in from street, where poplars / stand amazed, the distance is scared, the houses / afraid to fall down, the air blue, like a sack / of clothes carried by a patient leaving a hospital. Where the evening is empty, an interrupted tale, / left abandoned by a star without contin...»
«With blinding brilliance / The evening dawns at seven. / From streets toward awnings / Darkness marches apace. / People – they are manikins; / Only lust and sadness lead / Them across the universe / Feeling their way by touch. / The heart under the palm / Betrays with its shudder...»