Marina Tsvetaeva
To Tsar, on Easter

Open, Open,
The gates of the tsar!
Darkness dimmed and poured out far.
With clean heat
Burns the altar —
Resurrect, Christ,
Yesterday's tsar!

Without glory fell
Two-headed eagle.
Tsar — you were wrong.

He'll remember inheritance
Many more times —
Byzantine sacrilege
Of your clear eyes.

Your judges —
Lightning and wave!
Tsar! God sought
You, not men.

But now there's Easter
In all the land,
Sleep in your village
With a calm mind,
Don't dream of
The banners red.

Tsar! Descendants
And ancestors — sleep.
There is a knapsack since
A throne you won't keep.

Translated by Ilya Shambat