Marina Tsvetaeva. The Best of Marina Tsvetayeva (translated by Ilya Shambat March 22, 2002 The most comprehensive translation of Marina Tsvetayeva in English language, prepared for 110th anniversary of her birth. Translations from Russian original in chronological order. Includes classics and lesser-known poems, translated directly from Russian anthology. For inquiries, contact ilya_shambat@yahoo.com.
To Mother In the old Strauss waltz for the first time We had listened to your quiet call, Since then all the living things are alien And the knocking of the clock consoles. We, like you, are gladly greeting sunsets, And are drunk on nearness of the end. All, with which on better nights we're wealthy Is put in the hearts by your own hand. Bowing to a child's dreams with no tire. (Only crescent looked in them indeed Without you)! You have led your kids past Bitter lifetime of the thoughts and deeds. From the early age the sad one's close to us, Laughter bores and home we left behind.. Our ship not in good times left the harbor And it sails by will of every wind! Azure isle of childhood is paling, On the deck of ship we stand alone. It appears, oh mother, to your daughters You've left an inheritance of woe. x x x The street awakens. She looks, exhausted With the mute windows' sullen eyes, On sleepy faces, red from the cold, That with thoughts chase the stubborn sleep away. The blackened trees with rime are covered - With trace mysterious of the night's fun, In gleaming brocade sad ones are standing, Just like the dead the alive among. The gray coat mingles, trampled upon, The forage-cup with a wreathe, a bored look, And the red arms, pressed to the ears, And the black apron with the tied books. The street awakens. She looks, unpleasant With mute windows' sullen eyes, it would seem. To sleep, in a happy thought be forgotten, What life seems to us, this is a dream! Little World Children - are staring of eyes so frightful, Mischievous legs on a wooden floor, Children - is sun in the gloomy motives, Hypotheses' of happy sciences world. Eternal disorder in the ring's gold, Tender word's whispers in semi-sleep, On the wall in a cozy child's room, the dreaming Peaceful pictures of birds and sheep. Children - is evening, evening on the couch, In the fog, through the window, glimmer street lamps, A measured voice of the tale of King Saltan, Mermaid-sisters of seas from tales. Children - is rest, brief moment of respite, A trembling vow before God's eyes, Children - are the world's tender riddles, Where in the riddle the answer hides! Before a Little Coffin To Katherine Pavlovna Peshkova Mother has painted the coffin brightly. The tiny one sleeps in Sunday attire. Onto the forehead no longer is falling The light-brown hair; A round comb no longer is pressing, Having seen so little, of the child's head; Only of joy knew The heart of the kid. For five years so happily lived she Much played the deft arms! Fantasies, fantasies mid lilies, Nobody disturbed them. The flowers seek a place nearer to her, (She seems tight in her new bed). The flowers know: Little Katya A golden heart had. Epitaph L.A.T. ON THE GROUND "Hid in the corner, you look so stubborn, We wait for long. Say, you agree?" "Ah, I don't know. Leave me, mother! Leave me. It's all the same to me!" IN THE GROUND "Is not the breath of a tired chest heavy? In tight grave it's always dark, you see?" "Ah, I don't know. Leave me, people! Leave me! It's all the same to me!" OVER THE GROUND "Did I love passionately with my heart, too? Evil - did it so anger thee?" "O my good God, I agree completely! I'm tired. It's all the same to me!" Lady with Camelias Your whole way with shining evil's coal Margaret, they all do bravely judge. What's your fault? The body sinned as such, Innocent you have retained your soul. To all people it's the same, I know, To all nodded with a blurry smile. And with this sorrowful semi-smile You have wept yourself long time ago. Who will know? Whose hand will help along? No exception to the rule, one thing entrances! They eternally await embraces, They eternally await, "I'm thirsty! Be my own!" Day and night the bane of false confessions.. Day and night, tomorrow, and once more! Spoke more eloquently than the word Your dark glance, the martyr's dark expression. The accursed ring is growing narrow, On the goddess of the world avenges fate.. Smiling childishly, into your face A young tender boy glances with sorrow. The entire world is saved by love! In but her salvation and defense is. All's in love. O Margaret, sleep in peace. All's in love. I'm saved because I love. Terminal Silhouette I know you not and in no way I want to lose starry illusions With such a face in worst confusion People are loyal to a ray. All that the fate has marked for grave Have such closed-off face instead. You are a page that was not read And no, you will not be a slave. A slave with such a face? Oh no! There is no error here by chance. Your slender figure and your glance Will be secret to many, I know. A heavy bracelet of your hair Under the thrown-over scarf (You'd do with guitar or a harp) And your pale face, as pale as air. I know you not. And possibly You're kind and moderate like all. Maybe! May these be ravings all! For only raving ones may be! Perhaps the day is not so far When I will fathom what's unseemly... But this to err - it is so relieving! It is so easy yet to err! Touching the scarf with a light hand, There where the whistles shrilly blow. This is the you that I will know Where you just like a riddle stand. In Paris Homes reach the stars, the sky's below, The land in smoke to it is near. Inside the big and happy Paris Remains the secretive despair. The evening boulevards are noisy, Gone are the sundown's final rays, And there are couples everywhere Trembling of lips, daring of eyes. I'm here alone. To trunk of chestnut It is so nice one's head to lean! And like in the abandoned Moscow In heart weep verses of Rostand. Paris at night is sad and alien, Dear to the heart is madness gone! I'm going home, there's vial of sorrow And tender portrait of someone. There's someone's glance, sad and fraternal. There's tender profile on the wall. Rostand and the Reichstadtian martyr And Sara - in sleep come they all! Within the big and happy Paris I dream of grass, of clouds and rain And laughter far, and shadow near, And deep just like before is pain. Prayer Christ and the Lord! I thirst for marvel Now, here, as the day would start! The life is like a book to me, So let me die. Let me depart. You're wise, and sternly "Now be patient, Your time's not ripe" you will not say. Yourself you gave me - too much now! I thirst at once - for every way! I want it all: with soul of gypsy To run to plunder with a song, To suffer for all near an organ, To run to war, an Amazon; To divine stars in a black tower The kids through shadows to lead... That yesterday would be a legend, That each and every day be mad! I love the cross, the silk, the helmet, The minute's trace of soul of mine.. You gave me childhood - better than fiction Now let me die at seventeen! To Asya Evening noise in the burning sunset On twilight of winter day. The third call. Hurry, remember me, You that are going away! Emerald wave is awaiting you, Splash of an oar of blue, To live our life underground, difficult, Was not possible to you. Well then, ahead, that our murky struggle Into our ranks never calls, If the transparent wetness appeals to you Flight of the silver seagulls! Give my regards to the hot, the brilliant, Burning sun, Your question pose to all strong and bright - Answer will come! Evening noise in the burning sunset On twilight of winter day. The third call. Hurry, remember me, You that are going away! Books in Red Binding From heaven of a childhood life A farewell to me you're sending, The ever-loyal dear friends Within a red worn down binding. On learning homework from school, At once I ran to see you yet. "It's late" - "Please, Mother, ten more lines" - But happily she did forget. The fires flicker in a lamp.. How nice it is to read at home! To sounds of Greeg, Schumann and Kui I learned about the fate of Tom. It's dark.. the air is growing cold.. Tom's full of faith in Becky's joy. Within the darkness of the cave Wanders with torch Indian Joe.. A cemetery.. owl is screaming.. (I'm scared) And now through hassocks flies The punctilious widow's foster-child, Like in a barrel Diogenes. Lighter than Sun is the throne hall, Over the graceful boy - a crown.. At once - a beggar! God! He said: "Forgive, I'm heir to the throne." To darkness comes, who comes from her. Sad is the destiny of Britain.. O, wherefore not amid red books Not to go back to sleep again Before a lamp? O golden times Where sight is braver, heart is purer: O golden times, I say again: Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, Prince and Beggar! New Moon Over meadow stands new moon, Over boundary of dew. Come, we'll make a friend of you, Dear, distant, alien. In the day I hide, am quiet. Moon above - I have no might! I rush on this lunar night To the shoulder of beloved. I'll never ask me, "Who's he?" All to know, your lips will say! Hugs are rude but in the day, In the day the fit is funny. In the day, torn by a demon proud, With a smile on lips I lie. Night, though.. Darling, far away.. Crescent stands above the wood! On Parting Mein Herz tragt schwere Ketten. Die Du mir angelegt. Ich mocht mein Leben wetten Dass Keine schwerer tragt Frankfurt song Teasing and tempting and playing We loved like children, us both But somebody, hiding a smile, Set up the ungentle nets - And here we are at the harbor, Not seeing the wished-for abodes, But knowing that I will be yours In the heart, without words, until death. You told me of all things - so early! I guessed them so late! In our hearts A wound is eternal, a silent Question exists in our eyes, The desert on earth is so endless, The heaven, so high, has no stars, Revealed is the tender secret, And frost rules for centuries. I will talk to shades! O my dear, To forget you I do not have might, Your visage can't move under shadow Of eyelids gone over my eyes... It's darkening... Shutters have closed, On all things descending is night... I love you, one ghostly-eternal, And only you - and always! To the Next One Tender caresses of kind little sisters Are ready for you. With the birds' songs, O the charmed prince, We're waiting for you. Branch drunk with sun, you grew, visage of heaven Before my eyes. Like a girl tender, like a child quiet, All - surprise. They'll often say: "These sisters are treacherous In each reply!" Cocky with daring ones, kids with a boy, timid With someone shy. We love, like you, melting clouds and birches And melted snow. We love the tales about grandmother's daughters, Little and slow! Pitiful is the wind, spring remembering, Gems in the skies.. We wait for you, one that knows nothing of life, And has blue eyes! Meeting Evening dimmed, like ourselves charmed With this first warmth of the spring. Stirring alive, Arbat was alarmed; With sympathetic tenderness, the kind Gale touched us with a tired wing. In our souls, raised on a fairy tale, Sorrow quietly cried for past things. He came - so unexpected! So hurriedly - He who helped in all things before. And far off in a line unconsolably The streetlamps' radiant dots Burned though light darkness some more... All around flowers we bought; We bought a bouquet.. What for? Quietly withered away unseen garden In the sky violet-red. How to be saved from late trouble? All returned. For a moment? For long? We speechlessly looked at sun going to bed, And Gogol nodded, thoughtful, from The pedestral like a brother, sad. Angelique Near is the meek image of the dark chapel Where the organ does weep! Alien to me is earthly joy. I'm Angelique. Quiet singing in unison sounds, Unclear are the windows, it seems, Elegant vaults have taken control Of my life like dreams. My sight in childhood slipped away there, It's tormented by the towns. Talk and the shining hall bore me indeed And the world wears me down. Someone lit candles before the Virgin. (Does the sick healing await?) This is the reason I'm silent midst you: I'm different all the way. Sweet is the weakness of arms relaxed, Light to me here is all woe. Dark-leafed ivy, as if they were friends Embraced the stones; Grass has blossomed here all the way Like almond, white and pink... I need no joy. I don't pity the world: I'm Angelique. From Four till Seven Like in a mirror, there's shade in the heart I'm bored alone - and with men... Slowly drags the light of the day From four till seven! Everybody is cruel in the dusk, Don't go to people - they'll lie. Fingers have wound into a knot The kerchief. I want to cry. Only don't torture me so, If you hurt me I'll forgive! From four till seven o'clock I endlessly grieve. Easter in April Eggs on a plate warmed the soul with delight And ringing of bells. What is more radiant than Easter in April, People, pray tell? Rays are caressing the grass, from the street Phrases and words... Quietly I wander from porch to the barn, Measuring boards. Waves of Easter ringing, external dawn, Like glow in the sky, Sound of a gramophone of our neighbors Bitterly cries, From kitchen follows it endlessly woeful Harmonica's sound, Much has gone on, oh yes much has gone on.. The past, fall down! No, I don't get help from eggs on the dish! It's late... Gone are the rays.. What is more hopeless than Easter in April, People, please say? Contact through Dreams All's for a moment, that people create, Glimmer of new things dims, But yet unaltered, like sorrow, remains Contact through dreams. Calming.. If but to forget.. but to sleep.. Sweetness of eyelids over eyes.. Dreams open fates of the future, and bind For centuries. All that I stealthily thought, is to me Clear like a crystal clean. Us, with a timeless and endless riddle, United the dream. I do not pray, "O God, make to vanish Torment of coming day!" Oh no, "Oh God, send to him about me A dream," I pray. May I get pale at the meeting with you - Sorrowful is it to meet! Secret is one: The contact through dreams. We are Powerless before it. x x x Azure are the fields, where our dreaming had met. Don't rush my memory! Be truthful: Anew you'll touch the silver cup Not soon with a one such as me. All's destroyed, not by our volition. And sweet Is the sigh over lost heaven! May be! - You're all - May's! For you is my sorrow of May. All that's dreamed of in May is for thee. Here we don't need to rendezvous. Truly, we'll meet Where the truth with the truth I shall meet; Every evening on bridges shaky and light We come out one another to greet. A familiar figure I'll see from afar - Heart beats rarely, then frequently, though... Like before you're not wrathful, not vengeful, oh no! And your eyes are the same, full of woe. These are dreams. To us both the night is still dear, Bravely breaking all barriers so. But the image of her that could not lie, my friend, Once awakened, don't chase like a foe. And when he will appear in the evening shade Under call of a previous song, Nod to happiness that has elapsed with a smile And recall without rage the one gone. Hello from a Train Louder is noise, as if taller than buildings, Train is shivering for the final time, Final time... we're riding... now my winter Dream, say goodbye! My winter dream, good to the point of tears, From you fortune is bearing me away. Judged in this way! I need no dream nor burden Along the way. Under train's noise to swim to far-off days, Still foggy, to trust marvels is so sweet. World is so wide! Maybe within it you I will forget? The train's darkness presses on the shoulders, Into window pours a torrent of the fog... My distant friend, please fathom - self-deception Is all this talk! Why the new land? The glimmer of same stars, Same laughter, war with boredom, everywhere, And your sweet gesture will be as a torment Here, like there. x x x It is true, is it not, that our souls are not used yet to parting? With a shimmer of glimmering wings they each other call! Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly interwoven, But forgot the remembering souls. Every evening, lit up by the will of a sorceress gentle. Every evening, when over the hills, in the heart, stands the fog, To the soul not forgetting the former deception comes near With a meek and not confident walk. Like the wind, that with sharp gusts awakens the things of times prior, From the glimmering lines your are smiling at me once again. All is permitted, all! You from dream, I in dream. Will not judge us The angst of the day. Someone higher betrayed us to nameless delicious torment, (Many wanderings blunderings through dark and snow there will be!) Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly intevowen... Not responsible for this are we! Except for Love Did not love, did not weep. Oh no, did not love, but regardless I have showed in the shadows the beloved likeness to you. In our sleep all things did not appear like love: No cause, no clues. From the evening hall only to us nodded this image, Only we - you and me - to it pitiful verses bore. What has bound us stronger than love has bound others Is that we adore. But the gust was escaped, and tenderly somebody approached, He who could not have prayed, but did love. To judge do not hurry! Like the most tender note in awakening of the soul You're memorable to me. In this sorrowful soul you had wandered, like in open house.. (In our house, in the spring)... Forgotten don't call me! All my minutes are filled with you, except for love - The most melancholy. In the Winter Behind the walls once again Bells' whining is heard. Several streets between us, And several words! The city in darkness sleeps, Silver sickle appears, The falling snow scatters Your collar with stars. Do your wounds ail for a long time? Do the calls wound of the past? Teases the new, seductive, And shining glance. (Blue or brown?) It matters more than Wise pages to the heart! Rime turns to white the Eyelashes' darts... Behind the walls, bell's whining Lacks strength, is barely heard. Several streets between us, And several words! Clear crescent is leaning into Books' and poets' souls, Into your downy collar In sheets is pouring snow. Truth The exhausted world sighs of confusion, The pink even streams oblivion... We were parted by shadows, not people, Oh my dearest boy, heart of mine! -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Walls are towering, in a fog dressing, Spear was dropped without strength by the sun.. In the evening world I'm cold. Where are you, Oh my dearest boy, heart of mine? -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- You will not hear. The walls are encroaching, All things blend into one, all dies down... Nothing did, does, will substitute for you, Oh my dearest boy, heart of mine! Another Prayer Once again I am bending my knees before you, Having noticed your garland of stars far apace. Let me know, dear Christ, that not all things are ghosts, Allow me, at last, not a ghost to embrace! I am tormented by these long days. With no worry, With no aim, in half-darkness, I am so lost.. I can love ghosts, but can one survive on this planet For eighteen years solely on ghosts? And they sing, and they write, joy is in the beginning! Blossom with your full jubilant soul! Isn't it true, there's no happiness without sorrow? I don't have any friends save the dead, none at all. Those enflamed with another belief for all time, is it so, From the world in empty desert had hid? No, I don't need the smiles gained at the cost Of profaning the highest shrines of my creed. I don't need bliss that comes at the price of debasement. I don't need love! I'm sorrowful - not for her. In the quiet kingdom of beloved ghosts, only ghosts - Give me my soul to give back, Savior! To a Growing-Up One Outside the window once again A fir is lit by snow.. This cradle of yours, my dear friend, Why did you outgrow? The snowflakes fly, to all adhere, And melt too fast to know.. What therefore for, you stupid one, Did you it outgrow? Days' weight upon it didn't press T'was easy sleeping there, And now your eyes have darker grown And gold of your hair.. It burned your sight, but will it give Happiness, this wide world? Why, why did you outgrow Your cradle, my dear girl? Girl Death With a milky and even wave The moon washed the cold parquet. I sweetly was sleeping under the moon, To a hot cheek pressing a bouquet. With light and with sleep doubly disturbed, I opened the eyes sleepy, And like a pink angel without wings The Girl Death leaned to me. Medallion trembles around the thin neck, A blush on her cheeks pours, It's visible, that she ran: dusted A bit are her bluish shoes. There's fanciful pattern of golden edge, A turquoise thread in the curls. "We'll play on the road, together us two: You - little boy, me - a girl Put on (you're the knight) my scarf of lace!" I silently gave the bouquet... And with a milky and even cold wave The moon washed the parquet. Boy-Madness I have brought you a bouquet, Scarlet-red roses, poppies. I'm not same in anything, I'm the happy boy-madness. I'll blow out a yellow candle - It will be a flashlight pink. And a golden diadem I will wear like a king. I'm a conqueror sleepy Kingdoms, a mage. Is't full, King? I'm a doctor that is healing Without pills or medicines. Why the medicines? Why pills too? We will dance together, kid! Now flies mounted on a chair A completely empty bed. Where he's from - it is my secret: Serpent, red, will weave and hiss. I am laughing, all are laughing. I'm the happy boy-madness. On a New Year Let's meet the stranger with a lamp, With a quiet, loyal flame. Only no hidden whisper, No whisper about him! We do not need the bright light now, Dim the lamp till it's barely lit. Only no sight of the better, No sight of it! May in a careless worry Year like a day only seem! Only no thought of eternal, No thought about him! We will again become "sisters", Nearer to each other sit. Only no words of the past, No words about it! Schoolgirl today all night long could not sleep From the magickal month-of-May noise! Quietly pulled on the pantyhose And to the window slipped. I'm a rebel with whirlwind in the blood, Only passion and cold matter to me. I have read Bourge too: One can't be Happy when one is unloved. "He"'s rejected since he was twelve, Plays but Greeg and but Liszt - and come look: He is smart and well-read, like a book, And a poet as well! For but one of his looks of fire I am ready to fall on my knees! But my parents our happiness Do not desire. Tverskaya Here's the world, where glass-cases are shining, Here's Tverskaya - we miss it eternally. Whom does Asya need more than Marina? Whom does dear Asya need more than me? In a lively row walking, drinking Sunset, voices, lights, - all that's there, And at times lowering our eyelids Under someone's assiduous stare. Moscow April night is only ours, Only ours, the flames shining like darts - Street to grown ups, to us - Tverskaya Is a cradle of semi-grown hearts. This, a cradle of golden sunrise, The world marvels at what's in morn given.. Here's a window with Tate's diamonds, With lights here's a window again.. We will know all by faith or by sense, Starry distance and width of the sky! Pink stands Strastnoi monastery Over grey plaza towering high. Without moment of silence we're walking. All dear words, all dear traits - in all truth! Unforgettable April - Tverskaya You're the cradle of our youth! At Age Fifteen Ring, sing, oblivion preventing, The words "fifteen years old" in my soul. Why, did I grow up and become big? Nothing consoles. Just yesterday, into green grove of birches Free, in the morning I ran away. Just yesterday I frolicked without hairdo, Just yesterday! Spring ringing of the far-away belltowers Told me: "Run and sit and lie!" And every step frolicking was allowed, And every cry! What is ahead? What failure lies before me? In all deceit, all is forbidden. Thus, crying, with dear childhood I parted At age fifeen. Drum To rock a cradle this morning in May? Proud neck in lasso, like some? Distaff to jailbird, to herder - a shawn, To me - a drum. Role of a woman's not dear to me: I fear not wounds, but boredom. Gives to me everything - honor and might - This my drum. So many countries I have not seen! Trees are in bloom, stands the sun.. Kill all the sorrow around you in flight, Beat, my drum! Beat, now you drummer! Ahead of all! All else - deceit for the dumb! Why does it conquer the heart on the way. How is the drum? Autumn in Tarus Clear morning is not hot, lightly You run through the meadow. Down the Oka pulls a barge, Very slow. Several words without willing You are repeating still. Somewhere in the field is ringing Weakly the bell. Ring in the field? On the meadow? Are they going to the prayer? Eyes into somebody's fortune For a moment stare. Distance is blue between pine trees, On threshing-floor voices ring.. And smiles the autumn To our spring. Life has flung open, but still.. Ah, days of gold! Lord, how are they distant! How are they distant, God! To Literary Prosecutors To melt all, that the people forget all, Like a candle or molten snow? Be a handful of dust in the future Under cross of a grave? I say no! Every moment, from anguish concussing, I return to the same once again: Die forever! Did for this the fortune Give me all things to understand? Evening in the child's room, where with muppets I'll be sitting, cobweb on the meadow, The accursed soul by the vision.. To live for everyone, all to know! For this (there is strength in the expressed one) I give to court what's dear to me, That these my restless young years Youth would keep eternally. x x x You walk, looking just like me, Lowering your eyes. I lowered them - also! Stop, the passerby! Read - having gathered a bouquet Of hens' blindness and poppies - That they called me Marina And how old I was. Don't think I'll appear with menace, That a grave here is hidden.. I loved to laugh too much When it was forbidden. And blood to the skin was rushing, And my curls did twist.. I once was too, passerby! Passerby, cease and desist! Tear off for yourself a wild stem And after him a berry: There are no strawberries sweeter Or bigger than at cemetery. But only don't grimly stand there, On the chest lowering your head. Lightly do think about me And lightly about me forget. How the ray alights you! You're all in a golden dust.. And at my voice from below Do not you be nonplussed. x x x These my poems, written so early That I did not know then I was a poet, Which having tore, like droplets from a fountain, Like sparks from a rocket, Into a sanctuary, where there is sleep and incense Like little devils having burst, These my poems about youth and about death, This unread verse! Scattered through shops in piles of dust Where nobody picked them up or does, These my poems, like precious wine, Will have their time. x x x Passing me by, as you walk To charms doubtful and not mine - If you but knew how much fire, How much life is wasted in vain, On the rustling, occasional shade What a heroic flame - And how enflamed my heart This gunpowder wasted in vain! O the trains flying into the night, Carrying sleep on the station away.. If you recognized - if you but knew - Then and there, I know, anyway. Why are my words so sharp In the smoke of my cigarette - How much dark and menacing angst Is there in my light-haired head. x x x My voice is dumb and all the words, In vain. So now, go! I won't be in the right before Anyone, I know. Beautiful coward, in this battle It's not for me to fall! But, dear youth, I do not fight For power in this world. And this the noble-minded verse Never yourself denies. You can - because of someone else - Not see my very eyes, Not to grow blind upon my flame, Nor feel the strength in me.. What demon in me you let loose Into eternity! But know that there will be a court, Like arrow taking aim, When two angelic fiery wings Over the head will gleam. To Asya 1 We're sharp and we are ready, We're faster. In each word, in each glance, in each gesture - Two sisters. Unique and refined our taste is And our words, We from the old Damascus Are two swords. Out, threshing-floor and bread's burden And the ox! We - are stretched out in heaven Two arrows! On the world's market without sin We're alone. We - from William Shakespeare Are two poems. 2 We - are the dressing of poplars In the spring, We - are the last hope Of the kings. We're on the bottom of ancient cup. Come see now: In it is your dawn, and ours Two dawns too. And touching lips to the cup Drink to bottom. You will see our names On the bottom. Light glance is brave and shining Evil too. Who on earth ever met it Among you? Guarding the cradle, the mausoleum And other things, We are the final visage Of the kings. To Sergei Efron-Durnovo 1 Such voices can be, That you're silent, don't repeat them, So that wonders you foresee. There are also giant eyes The color of the sea Now he stands in front of you: Look at forehead and at blood And compare him with you! The decrepit blood, Tiredness turned blue. Of each noble vein Blueness triumphs. Gesture of the prince and lion With a white foam lace Repeats again. Your regiment's - dragoon, Decembrists and Versaillians! You don't know - he's so young - Fingers ask for brushes, Spars and strings. 2 Like seaweed, like branches of willows Of Malmazonia are your limbs, Thus you did lie in sprays of sea foam Transfixing absent-mindedly Upon the sweet light-golden melons Of diamond and aquamarine The eyes forever semi-open So blue-and-grayish, bluish-green. The waves are just like rabid lions, The arrows of the sun did fly. And from intolerable blueness Too whitish, you did there lie. Behind the back, the desert, somewhere The station Djankoi had to be, And underneath your arm stretched out Melon grew golden quietly. Thus, calm and precious, you lie there, Don't give a glance and do not see, But look - and waves will heave with power, And mountains will be moved to sea. And new moons will in sky be burning, And joyful lions will lie down Under the single downward leaning Of your head beautiful and young. To Byron I think about the morning of your glory, About the morning of your days too, when Like a demon you from sleep had stirred And were a god for men. I think of when your eyebrows came together Over the burning torches of your eyes, Of how the ancient blood's eternal lava Rushed through your arteries. I think of fingers - very long - inside The wavy hair, about all Eyes that did thirst for you in alleys And in the dining-halls. About the hearts too, which - you were too young then - You did not have the time to read, too soon, About the times, when solely in your honor Arose and down went the moon. I think about a hall in semi-darkness, About the velvet, into lace inclined, About the poems we would have told each other, You - yours, I - mine. I also think about the remaining From your lips and your eyes handful of dust.. About all eyes, that are now in the graveyard About them and us. x x x How many people fell in this abyss, I fathom from afar! There will be time, and I will vanish too From earth's exterior. All will be still, that sang and that did struggle, That glistened and rejoiced: The greenness of my eyes, the gold of my hair, And this my tender voice. Life will continue with its soft hot bread, With day's oblivion. All will continue - under outstretched heavens As if I'd never been! Like children changeable in every mien And angry not for long, Who loved the times when in the fireplace Into ash turned the log, Violin and cavalcade within the forest And in the village, bell... Upon this dear earth - I will be no longer That was alive and real! To all - who are the friends and strangers To never having known the measure, me? I turn to you with this my faith's demand And love's query. Both day and night, in word and letter both: For truth of yes and no, For that though I am but twenty I am So often in such sorrow, For unavoidably my slights and trespasses Will be forgiven me - For all of my impetuous tenderness And look too proud and free - For quickness of events as they come rushing, For truth, for play, say I - Please hear me! But do also please love me For this that I will die. x x x Thus to thirst life: And to be tender And rabid and noisy, To be intelligent and charming - Gorgeous to be! More tender than what are or have been, Guilt not to know... This, that in graveyard all are equal, Angers me so. To be what nobody holds dear - Like ice become! Not knowing what has come before now Nor what will come, To forget how the heart broke and Grew back together, To forget both the words and voice And shine of hair. Bracelet of ancient turquoise On the stem, on This my white arm Narrow and long... Like painting over a cloud From afar, One took the mother-of-pearl pen In one's arm, Just like the legs jumped Over the fence, To forget, how along the road Shade advanced. To forget, like flame of azure, how Days are subdued... All my mischief, all my tempest, And poems too! Laughter will be chased away by My miracle. I, always-pink, will be The most pale. And they won't open - thus is needed - Pity this one! Not for the sight, not for the fields, Not for the sun - These my lowered eyelids. - Flower not for! - My earth, forgive for centuries Forevermore. Thus both the moon and the snow Will melt away, When this young, beautiful century Will rush on by. x x x You, whose sleep is without awakening, Who does still quietly move, Go to the Three-Pond alley If you my poems love. O, how sunny and how starry It's to start the life's first tome I pray - while it is not too late yet - Come and take a look at our home! Soon that world will be snuffed out, In a secret of the night look at it, While the poplar is not cut down And our home is not sold yet. This our poplar! Our childhood's evenings Underneath it nestle and thrash. This our poplar among acacias Is the color of silver and ash. Hurry on, you will find this world Unforgettably wonderful! Go to the Three-Pond Alley To this soul of my soul. To Alla 1 You will be innocent, gorgeous, Refined - and to all alien. A striving, aspiring mistress, An enticing Amazon. Your braids of hair, most likely, To wear like a helmet you'll choose, You will be the queen of the ballroom - Of all the poems of our youth. And your vicious blade of humor Will pierce through many, queen, And you will have at your feet All of which I can but dream. All will be obedient to you, And all before you will be quiet. Like me, you will indisputably And better poems write. But will you press tight and deadly Those temples of yours - who knows - Just like your young mother Is pressing her temples now. 2 Yes, I a