Marina Tsvetaeva
P. E. 6. Falling leaves over your grave...

6.

Falling leaves over your grave,
And the smell of winter.
Listen to the dead, listen, my dear:
You are still mine.

Laughing! — In the blessed road cloak!
Moon high.
My - so surely and so unalterably,
Like this hand.

Again with a bundle I walk up early in the morning
To the hospital door.
You just went to warmer countries,
By the great sea.

I kiss you ! I conjure you!
Laugh at the darkness beyond the grave!
I do not believe in death! I'm waiting for you at the station —
Home.

Let the leaves were they fall , washed and swept
On the mourning ribbons words.
And if the whole world died with you,
I, too, would be dead.

I see, I feel — I sense you everywhere!
— that wreath on your head! —
I have not forgotten you, and will not forget you
Forever and ever!

Such promises I know are pointless,
I know vanity.
— A letter to infinity. — A letter
To eternity —
A letter into the void.

Translated by Rolf W. F. Gross