Marina Tsvetaeva
- In a window, light..., by Maya Jouravel
- Wakeful windows shine..., by Dmitriy Belyanin
«I pray to the slender shaft of light / that pierces the window, pale and straight. / Since morning I have not spoken; / today my heart in two is broken. / The shiny brass on my wash-stand / has turned to verdigris of late. Yet the light that plays upon it / is a gladness to behold. / ...»
«We suffer equally this parting: / It is dark, and it is lasting. / Why weep? Give me your hand / Promise to come again in dreamland. / You and I are like grief upon dearest grief… / In this world, for us, there can be no meeting. / Just send me in the small hours, / via the stars, / ...»
«I hear caterwauling somewhere, / Distant footfalls echo in the night. / A fine lullaby to me you left! / The third month, this, since last I slept. You're with me once again, insomnia, / Your iron face closer than anything; / Beauty, lawless beauty that you are, / Really, don't you like...»
«My Sister, my Muse, looked into my face, / her glance both sharp and clear; / and she took away my golden ring, / Spring's first present of the year. / O Muse! You can see how happy they are, / the girls, the women and widows... / I would rather be broken on the wheel / than carry thes...»