Samuil Marshak
- Baggage, by George G.
(A Lady has checked in to ship...) - In the van, by Margaret Wettlin
(A lady sent in the van...)
«For O. A. Glebova-Sudeikina "What do you see, on the wall, dimly alive, / At that hour when the sunset eats the sky? A seagull, on a blue cloth of waters, / Or perhaps it’s those Florentine gardens? Or is it Tsarskoye Seloe’s vast view, / Where terror stepped out before you? Or that on...»
«Sunlight fills my room / With hot dust, lucent, grey. / I wake, and I remember: / Today is your saint’s day. / That’s why even the snow / Is warm beyond the window, / That’s why, sleeplessly, / Like a communicant, I slept.»
«Evening hours at the desk, / The page irremediably white, / The mimosa’s scent is of Nice, warmth, / Over the moon some vast bird flies. And, twining my braids for night, / As if I must wear them tomorrow, / I look from the window at sand-dunes, sea, / Free of sorrow. How much power ...»
«Irreparably white the page. Long hours / Spent vainly at a desk. Of warmth and Nice / Smell the mimosa's tiny, yellow flowers. / Caught by the moon's white ray, a large bird flies. It's bedtime, and my long hair plaiting tightly — / As though it mattered!- out the window I, / No longer ...»