Marina Tsvetaeva
- Beneath the plush plaid’s sweet caresses..., by Andrey Kneller
- Under a Velvet Throw, by Dina Belyayeva
«I've lived to bury my desires, / And see my dreams corrode with rust; / Now all that's left are fruitless fires / That burn my empty heart to dust. Struck by the storms of cruel / Fate My crown of summer bloom is sere; / Alone and sad I watch and wait, / And wonder if the end is near. ...»
«Oleg, the wise Prince, roused to arm, / Cried: "Vengeance on the ruthless horde / Of raiding Chosars! Field and farm / My men shall put to fire and sword!" / And when his faithful horse was brought, / He rode out with his knights and men, / In damascened, gold armour, wrought, / ...»
«Wise Oleg to the war he hath bouned him again, / The Khozars have awaken'd his ire; / For rapine and raid, hamlet, city, and plain / He gives over to falchion and fire. / In mail of Byzance, with his host in the rear, / The Prince pricks along on his faithful destrer. From the darksome fi...»
«Sustu, giden bir yaprak dökümüyle, / Şen, kayın dilli altın bir orman, / Ve acı duymuyorlar artık kimseye / Turnalar da, uçuşlarında gam. Acı niye? Zaten insanınki gezginlik dünyası: / Gelir, girer ve terkeder yuvayı yine. / Düşünde görür gidenleri kendir tarlası / ...»