Marina Tsvetaeva
- Poems about Moscow. 9. With a red brush..., by Ilya Shambat
(With a red brush...)
Marina Zwetajewa (deutsch)
- Gedichte über Moskau. 9. Mit einem roten Pinsel..., Josef Maria Mayer
«Not yet does the current hold sway / but it’s drowning the blue ice; / the clouds have not melted away, / yet the snow is drifting in sunlight. Through a half-open door / my heart hears a whisper... / You don’t yet love, but no more / can you keep your distance.»
«I come again with greetings new, / to tell you day is well begun; / to say the leaves are fresh with dew / and dappled in the early sun; to tell you how the forest stirs / in every branch of every brake, / and what an April thirst is hers, / with every whistling bird awake; to say, as ...»
«Whispers. Timid breathing. Trilling / Of a nightingale. / Heaving silver waters rilling / In the quiet vale. Night's dim light and shadows dreaming / Through the haze of space. / Moods like faery lante...»
«At daybreak there spread through the heavens / Pale clouds like a turreted town: / The cupolas golden, fantastic, / White roofs and white walls shining down. This citadel is my white city, / My city familiar and dear, / Above the dark earth as it slumbers, / Upon the pink sky buil...»