Marina Tsvetaeva
Without self-control...

Without self-control
With complete meekness.
Light and soft is
Air over abyss.

Growing at once,
Like lightning — in time,
As if by order
There will be a blossom.

Answering stars,
With a snake hair...
Himself defenseless —
Not a flame-bearer!

He to me? I to him?
I'll try, I know.
Without intent
Into death I will go.

Translated by Ilya Shambat