Marina Tsvetaeva
To a Growing-Up One

Outside the window once again
A fir is lit by snow..
This cradle of yours, my dear friend,
Why did you outgrow?

The snowflakes fly, to all adhere,
And melt too fast to know...
What therefore for, you stupid one,
Did you it outgrow?

Days' weight upon it didn't press
T'was easy sleeping there,
And now your eyes have darker grown
And gold of your hair...

It burned your sight, but will it give
Happiness, this wide world?
Why, why did you outgrow
Your cradle, my dear girl?

Translated by Ilya Shambat