Marina Tsvetaeva
Youth. 2. Soon from swallows — into sorcerers!..

Soon from swallows — into sorcerers!
Youth! We will say farewell before then...
We will stand in the wind soul to soul!
My tan one! My sister console!

With a skirt of raspberry flare,
You my youth! My dove you are
Tan! Waste of my soul!
You my youth! Dance and console!

Wash me with a shawl of azure,
My insane one! We have played with you
For a plenty! Dance a while and spar!
My gold — farewell — amber!

For a reason your arms touch I,
Like to a lover I say goodbye.
Torn away from depths within my breast —
My youth! Go to someone else!

Translated by Ilya Shambat