The Best Of Marina Tsvetaeva

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"How many people fell in this abyss"

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 me that never knew what is enough - 

I turn to you with this my faith's demand 

And a request for love.  

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.   

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"Thus to thirst life: And to be tender"

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.  

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"You, whose sleep is without awakening"

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.   

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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 am jealous of you 

With such a jealousy! 

Yes, I also disturb you  

With my angst already.  

And this my miserable nature 

In you is most awfully clear: 

In your without two months two years - 

You're in despair.  

All dolls in whole wide world, all horses 

You'll give without a second thought 

For one page from my notebook 

And pencil I brought.  

You're in a fight with maids - you want  

To do all things alone. 

Then suddenly you're in despair: 

"The sea's gone home."  

However proudly I speak of you, 

I can't transmit you all about 

When you are asking me, 

"Mother, Please kiss my snout."  

You know, all in me is laughing 

When somebody once again 

Attempts to kiss you 

In vain.  

I am the snake that took the princess, 

A dragon! Groom of grooms! O light 

Of my eyes - O the jealousy 

Of my night!  

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From Cycle "P.E."

1

Clad in the golden dust of evening 

An August day did quietly melt. 

The ringing streetcars rushed onwards 

And people went.  

I went along a quiet side street 

Without aim, absent-mindedly. 

And I remember how the church bells 

Sang quietly.  

I decided all things on the way 

Imagining your pose: 

Am I, or am I not, to bring 

To you a rose?  

And I was readying a phrase, 

Forgotten afterward, 

Alas - And suddenly - no wait! - at once! 

That self-same house.  

With many stories, looking bored... 

I count the windows, here's the porch. 

Unwittingly, cross on the neck 

The hands do search.  

I count the gray steps, that are leading 

Me to the flame. 

I ring the bell. Here for thinking 

There is no time.  

I but remember roar of thunder 

And my two hands, as cold as ice. 

I call for you. - He is at home, He'll come at once. 

--------------------

May with my youth the years bear out 

What's unforgotten, one and all. 

The paint upon the colored wallpaper 

I will recall.  

And glass-beads of the lampshade, and 

The sound of some strange voices and 

Port Arthur and the dull clock beating 

Overhead.  

The moment, long, in the least measure - 

Like hour. But steps from afar. 

And you have entered.  Here's the squeaking 

Of open door. 

--------------------

And there at once was fascination. 

He leaned down, simple like a king. 

And two stars in awe and terror 

Were glimmering.  

And squinting them, so huge, you did not 

Know of the tender face so dear, 

Still one more moment - what a tempest 

Played here.  

I struggled like a hero. Even 

You and I once together dined! 

A muted voice I do remember 

And lips' outline.  

And hair, fluffier than down, 

And - the most dear! - 

The gorgeous wrinkles of laughter 

Your long eyes near.  

And I recall - you sat right there,

I, here - but you do forget. 

What effort all this cost to me, 

What minutes yet -  

To sit, giving off reams of smoke, 

And to observe silence complete ... 

It was intolerable to me 

Like this to sit.  

You do recall this conversation 

Of weather and of letter "e." 

Behold, you know, for such a strange dinner 

There cannot be.  

In a half-turn, in a half-darkness 

I laugh, not waiting for myself: 

"Eyes of a thoroughbred dog,  

Count, Farewell." 

--------------------

Lost and without aim completely 

I walked an alley dark as hell 

And, seemingly, there was no singing 

Of the bell.  

2

When he did live everyone loved him 

Eternal loyalty did vow, 

Carry the wreaths out of the lilies 

Onto fresh snow.  

Over his miserable lodgings 

For a brief minute go slow 

That he would not for too long shiver 

On this first snow.  

Warm, melt the icy blood inside him 

With breath of body and of soul! 

But if at once the love inside is 

Already cold -  

To lover - love the brother even, 

The child on forehead wears a wreath - 

He can hug no one in the coffin 

After his death.  

Ah, he, whom you so loved, for whose sake 

You would have gone into hell's vault - 

That he is now in a coffin 

Is not his fault!  

From rustling of steps and of dress  

Trembling from head down to your feet - 

How he'd discover your embraces, 

Whene'er could he!  

O women! For each one among you 

He became ash and madness all! 

With what thirst, fully, did he love you, 

You must recall!  

Recall, how you caught  

From his eyes each look, 

Recall the former vows you've spoken 

In the night's dark.  

Thus you will not become disloyal 

Before his cross so nondescript, 

And each should quietly remember 

His lip.  

And before rushing onwards 

In sled with gypsy bell, go slow, 

And with your faces fall down  

Into night snow.  

Let it your cheeks tenderly sprinkle, 

And melt in droplets near your eyes.. 

I am among you one as I am 

Writing these lines -  

I won't break vows I have not taken - 

Life - your brown eyes  -  A

nd for the soul of Love herself,  

O women, pray!  

3

The leaves are scattered above your tombstone 

And winter's smell. 

Listen, the dead one, listen, O dear one: 

You're my own still.  

You laugh! - Moon is high - in the roadside cabin 

Full of charm. 

My - so undoubted and unchanging - 

Like this arm.  

To hospital doors with a knot in the morning 

I'll come again. 

You simply have gone to the great wide seas, 

To sunny land.  

I kissed you! I charmed you! I laugh at this darkness  

Beyond the tomb! 

I disbelieve death! I wait at the terminal - 

Come home.  

May leaves all be scattered, erased and washed out 

On mourning ribbon the words. 

And, I am also dead, if you're dead 

For the whole world.  

I see and I feel - I sense you everywhere - 

What's ribbon from wreaths of yours - 

I did not forget you and will not forget you 

Forevermore.  

I know the aimlessness of such a promise 

Its pointlessness too. 

Letter to endlessness - letter to limitlessness - 

Letter into the blue.  

4

Here's your roses - pull your hands toward them - 

Having gone farther than the sea, dear friend! 

My dear friend, having with you born out 

The most precious treasures of the land.  

I am robbed and deceived - There's no letter,  

No ring in my memory! 

How the features are memorable to me 

Of your face, wondering for centuries.  

How memorable is the asking, attentive 

Stare - inviting to sit near - 

And the worldy flattery of the dying 

And the smile from the great Afar -  

My dear friend, gone to sailing eternally - 

A fresh hillock among other mounds! 

Pray that there will not be other sailors 

Ensconced in your heavenly sound.  

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From Cycle "Girlfriend"

1

You're happy? You won't say! Barely!  

Better let go! 

You kissed too many, I do think, 

Therefrom, sorrow.  

All heroines of Shakespeare's tragedies 

In you I see. 

Nobody saved you, you the young 

Tragic lady.  

You are so tired of repeating 

Love's charm! 

Eloquent, the pig iron bracelet 

On bloodless arm.  

I love you. - Like a thundercloud 

Above you - sin - 

Because you're best of all and caustic  

And sting,  

Because in darkness of the roads differ  

Our lives and we, 

For your inspired enticement and  

Dark destiny,  

Because to you, my round-headed demon,

 "Forgive" I'll say, 

Because you - tear apart above the coffin! - 

Cannot be saved!  

For this trembling, because - is it not so - 

I have a dream? - 

For the ironic beauty of this,  

That you - aren't he. 

2

Under caresses of an ivy  

Plaid I recalled yesterday's dream. 

Whose victory? Who's been defeated? 

What has it been?  

Rethinking everything once more, 

Torturing myself once again. 

In this, for which no word I know, 

Had love ever been?  

Who was the hunter? Who - the hunted? 

All is reversed as if by Satan! 

What did the loudly purring 

Siberian Cat, understand?  

In this self-willing one another 

Who in whose hand was but a ball? 

Whose heart flew - yours or mine, 

Do you recall?  

And still again - what has it been too? 

What do I want, what do I pity? 

And I don't know: Did I win? 

Did somebody Conquer me? 

3

Today was melting, and today 

Before the window I did stand. 

A sober look, a freer chest, 

I'm satisfied just once again.  

I don't know why. Perhaps the soul 

Has simply grown tired of it all, 

And somehow the rebellious pencil 

I do not wish to touch at all.  

Distant to good and evil both, 

Inside the fog I stood, and thus, 

Was lightly drumming with my finger 

Upon the barely sounding glass.  

It is indifferent to the soul 

Than this one you first met - say I - 

Than mother-of-the-pearl mud puddles 

Where in full pleasure splashed the sky,  

Than bird that overhead is flying 

And dog that's simply running by 

And even the impoverished singer 

Did not begin to make me cry.  

The dear art of oblivion  

The soul has mastered all the way. 

Some overwhelmingly big feeling 

Melted within my soul today.   

4

You were too lazy to get dressed,

 Too lazy to get up for me. 

And every following day for you 

Would have been happy with my glee.  

To come so late on a cold night 

Embarrassed you especially. 

And every following hour for you 

Would have been young with this my glee.  

I was the youth that passed you by - 

You did this without ill intent, 

Your actions were in every way 

Incorrigible, innocent.  

5

Today, around eight, dashing through 

Big Lubanka straight ahead, 

Like bullet, like snowball, 

Somewhere rushed the sled.  

Already the laughter rang... 

I froze as I peered: 

Red down of the hair 

And somebody tall was near!  

We were with another, and opened 

Another sled route, I thought, 

With things that were dear to me - 

More strongly, than I did want.  

"O, je n'en puis plus, j'etouffe!" - 

You screamed in full voice of yours, 

And boldly went tucking in 

The hollow of fur on her.  

World is happy, and evening is bold! 

From the muff purchases fly... 

Thus you rushed in a snowstorm, 

Coat to coat, eye to eye.  

And cruelest mutiny happened, 

And white snow did pour. 

I followed you with my eyes 

For two seconds - and no more.  

And caressed the longish nap 

Upon his coat - without wrath. 

O Snow Queen! Your little Kai 

Is frozen to death.  

6

Just like a young plant sprout 

The neck is high and free. 

Who'll tell the name, who - years, 

Who - place, who - century?  

The curve of not bright lips 

Is capricious and wan, 

But blinding is the terraced 

Forehead of Beethoven.  

Clean to endearment 

Is the molten oval. 

A hand, in which a whip would do, 

And - in the silver - opal.  

Hand, meriting a fiddlestick, 

Gone into precious silk,  

A beautiful hand also, 

A hand that is unique.  

7

You pass me by as you stroll, 

I don't touch your hand at all. 

But my angst is eternal yet, 

That you be the first I met.  

Heart said "Darling!" out of control, 

I forgave you it all, 

Knowing nothing - not even the name! 

Love me, love me, I exclaim.  

From the curve of your lips with one glance 

I see their forced arrogance, 

By above brows jutting out: 

This heart storms, no doubt.  

With a black silk armor - dress, 

Voice with gypsy hoarseness, 

Until pain I love all things in thee, 

Even that you are not a beauty.  

Beauty, in summer won't wilt! 

Not a flower - you're a stalk made of steel, 

Meaner than mean, sharper than sharp, I say, 

From what island were you born away?  

With a rod you do wonders, with a fan - 

In each bone and in each vein, 

In the form of each finger full of rage - 

Woman's tenderness, boy's courage.   

Parrying all ridicules with verse 

I open for you and the Universe 

All that's ready in you, fine one, 

Stranger with forehead of Beethoven!  

8

Under sun the eyes are burning,  

Day's not equal day. 

I tell you for that occasion 

If I would betray:  

Whose lips I had not been kissing 

In the hour of love, 

To whom I upon black midnight 

Did not dreadfully vow -  

To live, like a flower blooms, like 

Mother tells a child, 

Never with an eye to go 

To any side..  

See that cross made of cypress? 

It's familiar to you. 

All will wake - you only whistle 

Underneath my window.  

9

I'll repeat in hour of parting 

When love comes to end 

That I loved, yes that I loved truly 

Your masterful hands  

And the eyes - somebody isn't  

Gifted with a glance! - 

Those that answer are demanding 

For a look every chance.  

You with your thrice-cursed passion - 

God sees all, say I! 

And demanding a payment for 

An accidental sigh.  

And I tiredly say, to listen 

Hurry not at all! 

Why is it that your own soul   

Stands across my soul.  

And again I'll also tell you: 

All the same - hear this! - 

Far too young was this my mouth 

For your gentle kiss.  

Glance is luminous and daring, 

Heart - like five year old... 

Happy's he who did not meet you 

On your road.  

10

Before a mirror, where there's fog 

And turbid sleep, your way 

I want to try - where it will lead 

And where there is the quay.  

I see: the mast upon a ship, 

And you - on deck, standing... 

You - in the smoke of train... the fields 

In lament of evening  

The ravens flying overhead, 

The evening fields in dew... 

In all the four directions 

I Am truly blessing you. 

11

The clock - what time it is? 

Rang out. 

Hollows of giant eyes, 

Watered satin of the dress.. 

I just about see you, I guess, 

Just about.  

The neighboring porch 

Has turned off the light. 

Somewhere they love too much.. 

Your face's sketch 

Is a scary sight.  

It's semi-dark in the room,

Night is one under skies. 

Pierced by the light of the moon 

Window deepened - Like sheet of ice.  

"You give up" - the voice burst. 

"I didn't fight, it was my choice." 

Voice from the moon catches frost.

 Voice - like from hundred verst 

This same voice!  

Between us stood ray of moon, 

Moving the world everywhere. 

Intolerably shone 

Metal red-brown 

Of crazy hair.  

Run of the moon forgot 

History's run. 

Mirror breaks moon apart. 

Knocking of hooves far apart, 

Screeching of a cart.  

Light on the street burned down, 

Running fades. 

A cock will crow soon 

Parting for two young 

Ladies.

  * Verst: a Russian unit of measuring distance, equal to about a kilometer.  Top

"Insanity - and good reason"

Insanity - and good reason, 

Disgrace - and honor, 

All, that brings on thoughtfulness, 

Is spilling over -  

In me. - All the penal passions 

Become as one! - 

All images wage war inside 

This hair of mine!  

The lover's whisper, all around 

By rote I know, 

Experience of twenty two years 

Nothing but sorrow!  

But - won't you say - innocently pink 

Look I, 

I'm virtuoso's virtuoso 

In art of lies.  

In her let out like a ball,  

Caught once again, 

The blood of Polish great-grandmoms 

Is evident.  

I lie because in cemeteries 

The grass does grow, 

I lie because in cemeteries 

Snowstorm does blow...  

From violin - from automobile - 

From silk, from fire... 

From torment that not only me  

They all desired!  

From pain, that I am not the bride 

Of the groom... 

From poem and gesture - for the gesture 

And for the poem!  

From tender boa on the neck... 

And how can I 

Not lie - when my voice sounds more tender 

When I do lie...  

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"I like it that you're burning not for me"

I like it that you're burning not for me, 

I like it that it's not for you I'm burning 

And that the heavy sphere of Planet Earth 

Will underneath our feet no more be turning 

I like it that I can be unabashed 

And humorous and not to play with words 

And not to redden with a smothering wave 

When with my sleeves I'm lightly touching yours.  

I like it, that before my very eyes 

You calmly hug another; it is well 

That for me also kissing someone else 

You will not threaten me with flames of hell. 

That this my tender name, not day nor night, 

You will recall again, my tender love; 

That never in the silence of the church 

They will sing "halleluiah" us above. 

With this my heart and this my hand I thank 

You that - although you don't know it - 

You love me thus; and for my peaceful nights 

And for rare meetings in the hour of sunset, 

That we aren't walking underneath the moon, 

That sun is not above our heads this morning, 

That you - alas - are burning not for me 

And that - alas - it's not for you I'm burning.   

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"My ancestor was a rider"

My ancestor was a rider, 

A thief, man with violin. 

Is this not why my taste wanders 

And hair smells of wind?  

Does not he steal from a car, 

Tan, apricots with my hand, 

The author of my passionate fate, 

Hook-nosed and curly-haired.  

Twirling between teeth a wild rose 

He wondered at tiller with plough.. 

He was a bad comrade - and wild 

And tender he was at love!  

Moon, beads, pipe and neighboring girls - 

All of them - he loved. 

I also think that my yellow-eyed  

Ancestor was a coward.  

That, having sold soul to  Devil for a pence 

At midnight he did not go 

By cemetery; that he carried a knife 

Behind a boot-leg, so.  

That many a time from a corner he jumped 

Like a cat, agile and thin.. 

And somehow I understood that he did  

Not play on a violin.  

And somehow all was not fitting to him,

 Like in the summer - last year's snow. 

Such a violinist my ancestor was. 

I became such a poet - so. 

 Top

"Sleep the rattles and dogs of neighbors"

Sleep the rattles and dogs of neighbors -

Not one voice, not one car. 

O lover, do not investigate 

Why I am parting the bar.  

New moon to a midnight is going: 

Hour of monks - and of sharp-eyed birds, 

Hour of youths and conspirators, 

Hour of lovers and murderers.  

Here each person's thought is double, 

Here, rider, hurry the horse. 

We will pass, not jingling with bracelets 

And not tinkling with a purse.  

Now the houses part with houses, 

On the square there is talk and dance.. 

Here, before a small Mother of God, 

Cordoba did its love pronounce.  

Here, upon a stone porch,  

By the fountain we'll sit silently, 

Where you first for my face were aiming 

With wolf's eyes.  

Rustling of silk around the knees, 

Smell of rose and a lock of hair.. 

O, beloved one - see, she's here - 

Carmen the poisoner!   

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"There is no day's temptation"

There is no day's temptation 

In a folio in which people die. 

To woman - all of the planet, 

To woman - Ars Amandi.  

Heart - of a lovers' potion Heart - 

is more loyal than all. 

Somebody's mortal sin is  

Woman from the cradle.  

Ah, so far to the heaven! 

Lips - in the dark are near.. 

God, do not judge! On the planet 

A woman you never were.   

Top

"The gypsy passion of parting"

The gypsy passion of parting! 

You meet it - and you take flight! 

I dropped the arms and the forehead 

And think staring into the night:  

No one, digging in our letters, 

Understood in all depth 

How we're sacrilegious - that is 

How we in each other have faith.   

Top

Poems about Moscow

1

Clouds - all around, 

Cupolas - around, 

Over all Moscow 

Many arms are wound!- 

I am lifting you, my best burden you 

Oh my little tree 

Flying weightlessly!  

In this wonder-town, 

In this peaceful town, 

Where if I were dead 

I'd be happy one, 

To be king for you, and to grieve for you, 

A wreath to take on,

 Oh my one firstborn!   

You to Sacrament bow 

Do not blacken brows 

And all forty - count - 

Forty churches now. 

You with steps do walk - with a young one's walk - 

All the many thrills 

Of the seven hills.  

Time will come for you: 

And the daughters - too 

You will give Moscow 

With sweet sorrow. 

My sleep by my will, like a ringing bell, 

Early dawns above - 

On the Vagankov. 

2

From my hands - not a hand-created town, 

My gorgeous brother, my strange one.

Upon the church - Forty times forty, side by side, 

And pigeons that above them glide.  

And Spassky - with flowers - gate, 

Where Orthodox Believer doffs his hat.  

The starry belltower - haven from sin - 

Where from the people's kisses floor is clean.  

Incomparable five-cathedral round 

Accept, my ancient and inspired friend.

To Unexpected Joy in the garden 

I'll lead my guest from foreign land.  

The sleepless bells will ring, will shine 

The cupolas of gold very fine, 

 And a cloth will be dropped by Mother of God 

Upon you from the purple clouds.  

And you will get up, full of divine power.. 

And you won't repent that you were my lover. 

3

Past the towers at night 

We are rushed by squares. 

Oh, how roar of soldiers 

In the night instills fear!  

Rumble, loud heart! 

Kiss with passion, love! 

This roar is so bestial! 

Daring - oh - is blood!  

My mouth is aflame, 

Given that sight's divine. 

Like a golden chest 

Iverskaya does shine.  

You stop picking quarrels 

And a candle light, 

That it won't be now 

With you as I'd like. 

4

The day will come - a sad day, they say!

They'll finish ruling, finish crying, burn away - 

Chilled with the others' nickels all the same - 

My eyes, moveable like the flame. 

And - like a double as his double he does sense - 

The likeness will appear through light face. 

O, I at last will merit thee, 

A gorgeous belt of beauty!  

And from afar - do I envy you? - 

Absent-mindedly baptizing, will pull 

A pilgrimage along the road black 

To my hand, which I surely won't draw back, 

To my hand, on which the ban no longer sits, 

To my hand, that no more exists.  

Your kisses, O the living ones, 

I won't oppose at first - not one. 

The majesty's shawl beautiful 

Has shrouded me from head to heel. 

Nothing will make me blush, today  

I have a holy Easter day.  

Along the streets of left-alone Moscow 

I will drive forth, and you will slowly go. 

And none will lag behind along the road, 

And on coffin's roof will thunder the first stone - 

And sleep, self-loving and lonely 

Will be resolved finally. 

And nothing will be needed to Marina 

Our newly-introduced ballerina. 

5

Above the city Peter cursed to hell 

Rolled the delirious thunder of the bells.  

Turned over thundering the high tide of the sea  

Above the woman that was rebuked by thee.  

To Peter and to you, O Tsar, praise be! 

But bells are higher still than both of ye. 

 While they are ringing still out of the blue - 

Indisputable, Moscow's primogeniture.  

And sixteen hundred churches, near and far 

All laugh at puny hubris of the tsars.  

6

The rain of bells drizzles above 

The blue of near-Moscow groves. 

Blind men wander the Kaluga road -  

Beautiful - Kaluga - song, and the same 

Washes and washes the names 

Of peaceful wanderers, in darkness of ones praising God.  

And I think at these times: Someday I 

Of you, friends, and you, enemies, having tired, 

And of compliance of Russian word -  

A silver cross on my chest I will don 

Cross myself and quietly go along 

The old Kaluga road.  

7

Seven hills - just like seven bells! 

Belltowers on the seven bells. 

Sixteen hundred of them, to count them all. 

Full of bells are these 

Moscow's seven hills!  

In the ringing, fine-gold day of John 

The Baptist was born. House like gingerbread,

 And around a hedge, and around a hedge, 

And the churches there stand with golden heads.  

And as nuns were pouring to dining hall, 

The first ringing I did love, I did love 

And the sorceress from a neighbor's yard 

And hot sleep and noise in the stove.  

Do conduct me, all you imbecile, 

Thieving, flagellant Moscow crowd! 

Priest, shut my mouth more tightly still 

With the ringing-bell Moscow's ground!  

8

Moscow - what a giant 

And strangely-mannered home! 

In Russia all are homeless. 

We all to you will come.  

A knife behind a boot-leg, 

A shoulder brand in shame. 

From far away us all 

You will call all the same.  

Upon the penal brandings, 

On every kind of ill - 

A baby Panteleimon 

We have, O man who heals,  

And there behind that door, 

Where all the people pour - 

There the fine golden heart 

Is burning of Iver.  

And "Halleluiah" pours 

Upon the fields grown tan. 

I kiss you in the bosom, 

O the Moscow land!  

9

With a red brush 

The mountain-ash burned: 

The leaves were falling 

And I was born.  

Hundreds of belltowers 

Argued at least. 

It was the Saturday: 

John the Baptist.  

And in my teeth now 

I want to crush 

The hot ashberry's 

Bitter brush.

  Top

From Cycle "Insomnia"

1

In a shady ring my eyes  

She surrounded - insomnia. 

With a shady wreath insomnia 

Did my eyes bind.  

At night - the same! 

To idols don't pray. 

Idol-worshipper - I'll give 

Your secret away.  

To you - day's not enough, 

Fire of sun above!  

You pale-faced one, wear 

My rings' pair! 

You screamed - and proclaimed  

The wreath of shade.  

Enough - did you - call me? 

Enough - did you - sleep with me?  

People bow to you. 

Light in face you'll lie. 

I'll be reader to you, 

I, insomnia:  

Sleep, soothed, 

Sleep, rewarded one, 

Sleep, wreathed, 

Woman.  

That - you would sleep - easy, 

I will sing - to thee: 

"Never-silent one, 

Go to sleep, my girl, 

You the sleepless one, 

Sleep, my little pearl."  

And to whom we didn't write letters so, 

And to whom we did not vow.. 

Sleep.  

Here now parted are 

The inseparable. 

Here released from arms 

Are your little arms. 

Here you're tormented, 

My dear tormentess.  

Sleep's - holy. 

All - sleep. 

Wreath's - gone.

2

In my giant city it is night. 

From the sleepy home I alight 

People think: Daughter and wife 

And I recall just this: Night.  

On my way blows the wind of July 

And somewhere music in a window - barely. 

Ah, now the wind will blow until dawn 

Into the chest through the chest's thin wall. 

There's light on the window, and a black poplar, 

A flower in the hand, and ringing in the tower, 

And this step nobody behind, 

And this my shade, but me you can't find.  

Fires - like threads of golden beads, 

Taste of night leaf between my teeth. 

Free me from shackles of the day, 

That I'm your dream, friends, understand.  

3

After a sleepless night the body gets weaker, 

It becomes dear and not yours - and nobody's. 

Just like a seraph you smile to people 

And arrows moan in the slow arteries.  

After a sleepless night the arms get weaker 

And deeply equal to you are the friend and foe. 

Smells like Florence in the frost, and in each 

Sudden sound is the whole rainbow.  

Tenderly light the lips, and the shadow's golden 

Near the sunken eyes. Here the night has sparked 

This brilliant likeness - and from the dark night 

Only just one thing - the eyes - are growing dark.  

4

This night today I am alone in the night -

 A sleepless and a homeless nun! 

This night today I have the keys 

Of all the gates of capital, just one! 

 The sleeplessness has pushed me on the way.

O, dusky Kremlin, how you're beautiful! 

I kiss into the chest this night today 

The whirling-round ground as it does howl!  

The stifling wind blows straight into the soul, 

The hair arises - not the hair, but down. 

Those who are pitied and those who are kissed - 

This night today I pity everyone.  

5

A window here again 

Where they don't sleep again. 

Maybe they thus sit, 

Maybe they drink wine. 

Or they would not part 

Simply the two hands. 

There is such a window 

In each house, friend.  

Window in the night - 

Partings', meetings' scream! 

Maybe - hundred candles, 

Maybe - only three. 

And my restless mind 

Cannot find its peace. 

In my very home 

Was begotten this.  

Pray, friend, for the sleepless home 

Behind a window with a flame!   

Top

From Cycle "Poems to Blok"

1

A bird in the hand is your name, 

An icicle on the tongue is your name, 

One movement of your lips is your name, 

Five letters is your name. 

A ball caught in the flight it is, 

A silver tambourine between the lips,  

A stone, into a quiet pond thrown, 

Will sob the name by which you're known. 

Your loud name resonates in the light 

Crackling of the hooves in the night. 

And a trigger with crackling ample 

Will call it back into the temple.  

Your name - forbid this! - 

Your name - the eyes kiss, 

In tender chill of motionless eyelids 

Your name - to the snow give a kiss. 

Key, ice, blue gulp - deep 

With your name is the sleep.  

2

A knight without reproach, 

A ghost, a gentle one, 

Who is it that called you 

Into my life so young?  

In fog greyish-blue 

Dressed in a chausible 

Of snow, stand you.  

Around the city 

By the wind I'm chased, 

For the third evening 

A foe I sensed.  

The blue-eyed 

Singer made of snow 

Stared at me so.  

The snow-white swan 

Lays his down under my feet.  Flow 

Feathers 

And slowly fall on the snow.  

Thus on the feathers 

I walk to the door 

Behind which is death.  

Beyond blue windows 

He sings to me, 

With far-away tambourines 

He sings to me,  

With far-off cry 

With swan's cry - 

He calls.  

My dear ghost! 

All's my dream, I know. 

Do a good thing: 

Amen, amen, scatter so! 

Amen.   

3

You walk out to the Falling Sun, 

Evening light in your face, 

You walk out to the Falling Sun, 

And the snowstorm blots out the trace.  

Past the windows - passionless - 

You will go in the quiet snow, 

My beautiful believer in God, 

Quiet to the light of my soul.  

I do not lust after your soul! 

Your footpath is inviolable. 

Into the arm, white from the kisses, 

I will not hammer my nail.  

And I will not respond to the name, 

And I will not pull with my arm, 

To the sacred image of wax 

I will only bow from afar.  

And, standing under the slow snow, 

I will fall on my knees in the snow, 

And in your holy name 

I will kiss the evening snow -  

There, where with a majestic foot 

In the coffin silence you did go, 

Quiet to light - holy glories - 

You the all-keeper of my soul.  

4

To beast - abode, 

To wanderer - road 

To dead one - quay 

To each - their own way.  

To a woman - to fool, 

To the king - to rule, To me - to extol 

Your name.  

5

Cupolas are burning here in Moscow! 

Bells are ringing here in Moscow! 

And coffins here stand in row - 

In them queens do sleep, and the kings.  

And you do not know, in Kremlin at dawn 

Breathing's lighter - than in all the world! 

And you do not know, in Kremlin at dawn 

Till the dawn I pray and sing.  

And you walk on by over your Nieva 

At the time, when on river Moskva 

I stand and my head bow 

And the lights to each other cling.  

I am loving you with insomnia, 

I am hearing you with insomnia - 

At the time when, on the whole Kremlin yard 

Awaken those who ring..  

But my river - with your river flows, 

And my arm - with your arm goes 

They won't come together, Oh my bliss, 

Until dawn catches dawn.  

6

They thought he was a man! 

And they forced him to die. 

He died forevermore. 

About a dead angel, cry!  

He sang the evening beauty 

At sundown of the day. 

Shimmer hypocritically 

Three waxen flames.  

Rays went from him - 

On the snow, hot strings! 

Three candles of wax - 

To the sun! Light-bearing!  

O look now, how his  

Dark eyelids have sunken in! 

O look now, how his 

Wings are broken!  

The black reader reads, 

Crosses the arms idle... 

The dead singer lies 

And celebrates Sunday.   

7

Like a weak ray through black gloom of the hells - 

Thus is your voice against exploding cannonballs.  

And in the thunder, just like some seraph 

Announces in a voice tone-deaf -  

Somewhere from foggy mornings long ago - 

How he did love us blind and nameless so -  

For sin - apostasy, for coat of blue..

 For how, Russia, he did not stop loving you,  

And more tender than all - into the most deep 

Night vanished he to do the wicked deeds!  

And how with a lost finger near the temple  

He draws and draws... and about this simply,  

What days await us, how  God will tell lies, 

How you will call the sun - and it won't rise!  

Thus, one on one with the prisoner  

(Or child speaks in his slumber?)  

Before us came - on the wide square - 

The holy heart of Blok, Alexander.  

8

Here is he - look - tired of the foreign lands, 

A chief without friends.  

Here - drinks from mountain rapids with his hand - 

A knight with no land.  

There's all for him: knighthood, and land, 

Mother, and bread.  

Great's your inheritance - so rule this land, 

Friend without friends!  

9

His friends - do not bother him! 

His servants - do not bother him! 

From his face it was evident deemed: 

Not from this world does my kingdom come.  

Eternal snowstorms circled the veins 

Hunched-over shoulders bent from the wings, 

In singing cut, into baked-over flame 

He let his soul go like a swan.  

Fall then, O fall then, copper heavy! 

Wings are ordained correctly: To fly! 

Lips, that have shouted the word: Reply! - 

They know, that this is not there - to die!  

He drinks the dawn, drinks the sea - 

Revels in full. - Don't serve the requiem! 

Of one who forever ordered: Be! - 

There is enough bread left to feed him!   

10

Not a broken rib - 

A broken wing. 

Not to the shooters shot - 

Through chest. Not to take out  

This bullet. Wing can't be repaired. 

He walked impaired.  

--------------------

Sticky is crown of thorns on the head! 

What is the noise of mob to one dead,  

The swan's down of woman's flattery... 

He walked, deaf and lonely,  

Freezing over the sunsets  

With emptiness of eyeless statues.  

But one thing still lived in him: 

The broken wing.  

11

Without word, without call - 

Like a thatcher from the roof falls. 

And again, possibly, 

You come - in the cradle you lie?  

You burn and don't dim, 

The light of several weeks.. 

Which of the mortals 

Rocks your crib?  

The blessed heaviness! 

Singing chestnut that prophesies! 

Oh, who will tell me

In which cradle you lie?  

"So far it's not sold!" 

With jealousy in my head 

With a great detour 

I'll walk the Russian land.  

The midnight countries 

Will go from end to end. 

Where's the mouth, his wound, 

His eyes' bluish lead?  

Take him! Hold tightly! 

To love him and love him only! 

Who will whisper to me 

In which cradle you lie?  

Pearly grains, 

Muslin shade full of sleep. 

Not laurel but thorn - 

Sharp-toothed shade of a cap.  

Not angel, but bird 

Opened two white wings! 

And to be born once again, 

That snowstorm again blew in?!  

Tear him! Hold tightly! 

Just don't give away! Hold high! 

Oh, who will breathe to me 

In which cradle you lie?  

And maybe false is 

My feat, and my labor futile. 

How you're put in the ground, 

Maybe - you'll sleep till trumpet call.  

The giant indenture 

Of your temples - catches my sight. 

Such an exhaustion - 

Can't be lifted even with pipes!  

The country pasture, 

Rusty, quiet reliably. 

The janitor will show me 

In which cradle you lie.  

12

Like drunk, like sleepy 

Unawares, without caution, 

The dimples of temples: 

Sleepless conscience.  

Empty eye sockets: 

All dead and light. 

Empty glass of a dreamer 

And man with second sight.  

Not you on 

Still rustling pile of garbage 

Carried out - 

Returning by Hades' gorge?  

Did not this, 

Ringing with a silver bell, 

Head flow past 

The sleepy Gebr?  

13

Thus, O the Lord! And this my prayer 

Accept for temple's confirmation. 

I sing not pleasures of my love - 

I sing the wound of my nation.  

Not nasty person's rusty trunk - 

Granite, with people's knees rubbed coarse. 

Hero and tsar given to all, 

To all - a singer - righteous - corpse.  

Not bashful at the coffin boards, 

Breaking upon Dnieper the ices, 

Russia - on Easter it does swim 

In pouring streams of thousand-voices.  

Thus, heart, there will be cry and praise! 

Let your cry - which thousand? 

The mortal love is jealous so. 

The other's at the chorus glad.   

Top

To Akhmatova

1

O muse of weeping, the most beautiful muse! 

O you the child of white night, ever mad and fierce! 

A black snowstorm over Russia you send 

And your cries our hearts like flying arrows pierce.   

And we tumble down and a deaf "Oh" - 

A hundred thousand people your name are calling: 

Anna Akhmatova! The name is a giant sigh, 

And she who is nameless into the abyss is falling.  

We're blessed that along with you we walk the same 

Earth, that the sky is the same overhead; 

And he, who is wounded with your mortal fate, 

As an immortal goes onto his deathbed.

  In my singing city the cupolas are aflame, 

And wandering blind man praises the Spassky light.. 

And I give to you my city that's full of bells, 

Akhmatova, and my heart I give to you beside.  

2

What are people's wiles to me? Holding

 My head I stand, 

On late dawn I sing 

Holding my head.  

Ah, I have been raised on the crest 

Of a wave wrathful and mad! 

I sing you, that you are alone among us, 

Like moon overhead!  

That, having flown like a raven on the heart, 

Pierced the clouds so. 

Hook-nosed one,  whose wrath is deadly and 

Whose mercy's deadly also.  

That over my Kremlin made of fine gold 

Has spread out her night, 

That tied my neck as if with a belt 

With singing delight.  

Ah, I am happy! Never the dawn  

Had been more clear, 

Ah, I am happy, that for your sake 

I'm leaving as a beggar -  

That you, whose voice, narrowed my breath - 

O depth, O haze - 

That by the name I called 

The Village of the Tsar muse.  

3

Just one more gigantic flap -

Eyelids are quiet. 

O, dear body! O the ash 

Of bird so light!  

I sang and waited, what I did 

In fog of day. 

So little body was in her, 

And so much sigh.  

Her dreamy sleepiness is not  

Humanly dear. 

Something of eagle and of angel 

There was in her.  

She sleeps, and chorus lulls her to 

Garden of Eden. As if he's not sated with song, 

The sleeping demon! 

--------------------

Hours, days, centuries - Not us, 

Not our rooms yet. 

And monument does not recall 

Already, bent.  

The broom is doing naught for long, 

And sweetly heave 

Over the Muse of Village of the Tsar 

The nettle's leaves.  

4

Mother's name is Anna, 

Lev - of the child. 

In his name is fury, 

In her is quiet. 

Red is his hair -

Tulip's head! 

So, Hossanah 

To the little tsar!  

God give him lungs 

And the smile of Mom 

And a look of

Pearl-seeking one. 

God, attentively 

Look after him: 

Tsar's son's more divine 

Than the other sons.  

Red lion-cub 

With green eyes,  

Heavy burden is on your head!  

Northern and Southern oceans 

And thread of pearl 

Black rosary is in your hand.  

5

You repeat nobody. How many 

Companions and friends! And 

Pride and bitterness rule over 

This youth so tender.  

Remember the crazy day at the port 

Threats of the Southern wind, 

Roar of the Caspian - and in the mouth 

A rose's wing.  

Like a gypsy I gave to you 

A stone in a cut frame, 

Like a gypsy I lied to you 

Something about fame..  

And - high at the sails - 

Teenager in blue blouse. 

Thunder of sea and the menacing call 

Of the wounded Muse.  

6

You won't leave alone! I'm a warden,

 You're an escort. The fate is one. 

And one in the frigid empty 

Order for horses is to us given.  

And my temperament is peaceful! 

And clear are my eyes! 

Let me go, Mr. Escort, now 

To take a walk to that pine!  

7

That from catafalques and from cribs

 You, ripping away the cover, 

You that fan the winds 

And snowstorms send over,  

Sending fevers, poems and wars - 

Serf-keeper! Black magician! - 

I have heard the menacing roar 

Of lions, of the chariot preaching.  

I hear voices in passionate tones - 

And a steadfastly silent one. 

I see the red sails - 

And a black one them among.  

Either by ocean you lead the way, 

With the full breast - or by air

I, like sun, wait, holding out my chest 

To the judgment that does death bear. 

8

People shouted on the street,

 Smoke flew from the bakery place. 

I remembered the ruby mouth 

Of a street singer with narrow face.  

In the dark kerchief with flowers - 

Honored by your civility 

You were drowned in the crowd  

Of praying ones at Sergei-Trinity,  

Pray for me, beautiful one, 

Sorrowful one and mad, 

How the forests will crown you as 

The lashing mother of god.  

9

To the golden-lipped Anne - to a word 

That all of Russia redeems! 

Carry away my voice 

And my heavy sigh, wind.  

About quiet bow of the earth among 

Golden fields, O the burning skies, 

Tell the story; and also about  

From the agony blackened eyes.  

You attained once again 

In the thundering height! 

You - the nameless one! 

Carry love of mine 

To the gold-lipped Anne - 

All of Russia!  

10

At the thin wire over oats' wave 

Like thousand voices - is the voice today!  

And - holy, holy, holy - tabors passing by 

Speak with the same voice, O the holy,  

I stand and I listen and I rub the corn ear, 

And voice locks me up with a dark cupola.  

--------------------

Not the swimming willows' branch 

But your arm I truly touch.  

For all, who in torment your approach glory - 

The earthly woman, a cross in the sky to me!  

At night curtsies to you alone I bear, 

And with your eyes from the walls the icons stare!  

11

You'll overtake the Sun in the sky, 

In your hand all the stars! 

Ah, if - only to enter you  

Like a wind - door ajar!  

And to tremble, and burst out,

 And sharply to dull the sight,

 And, like a forgiven child, 

To sob and to go quiet.  

12

I have been given arms - to each one to stretch both, 

Not to hold tight not with one, lips - to give names, 

Eyes - not to see, the high eyebrows above them - 

To marvel tenderly at love, and more still at not love.  

And this bell there, heavier than the Kremlin's, 

Ceaselessly walking and walking around in the chest - 

This - who knows? - I don't know - maybe - it must be - 

On Russian soil will nor be a guest!  

 Top

"I'll conquer you from all lands, from all the sky"

I'll conquer you from all lands, from all the sky, 

Because forest is my cradle and in the forest I'll die, 

For I stand on the ground with just one of my legs, 

For I will sing to you like no one else.  

I'll conquer you from all times, I will fight 

All golden banners, all swords and all nights,  

I will chase away dogs from a porch and I'll throw the key 

For in winter night not even dogs are more loyal than me.  

I'll conquer you from all others - from that one 

I will be no one's wife, you - no one's groom, 

And in the last argument I will take you - be quiet! -

 From the one with which Jacob stood in the night.  

But for now I won't on your chest the fingers cross - 

With you, you remain - O the curse! - 

Your two wings, that at the ether take aim - 

Because the world is your cradle, and world your grave.  

Top

"To you, my rival, I will come sometime"

To you, my rival, I will come sometime 

At night when moon is standing overhead 

When frogs are wailing loudly on the pond 

And women are from pity going mad.  

And, marveling at beating of the eyelids 

And on your jealous eyelashes, it seems, 

I'll tell you that I'm not a human being 

But just a vision which you only dream.  

And I will say: "Console me, console, 

Someone is beating nails into my heart!" 

And I will say to you that wind is fresh  

And that the stars over our heads are hot.   

Top

To Jews

Who did not stomp on you - who did not melt you - 

O merchant of the non-flammable roses! 

One thing unshakable upon this planet 

Did leave behind him Savior Jesus:   

Israel! Your second kingdom's coming: 

For all the money, if they only knew,

 You paid with all your blood - you are the heroes, 

The traitors, prophets, and the traders too.  

In each of you - Even in him that counts 

His gold before a candle in the dark -  

The voice of Jesus resonates more loudly 

Than in John, Matthew, Luke and Mark.  

Around the earth - from ocean to ocean - 

Crucifixion and from the cross taking down - 

We'll give Jesus Christ a true burial, 

Israel, with the last one of your sons!   

Top

"You, measuring me by the days"

You, measuring me by the days - 

With me, the hot and homeless one, 

Did you walk on the flaming squares  

Under the giant, burning moon?  

And in the tavern filled with plague, 

When solemn waltz a screech did make, 

Did you not in a drunken fist 

My long and piercing fingers break?  

With which voice in my sleep do I 

Whisper - you heard? - O smoke and ash! -

 What can you know of me, since you 

With me did not sleep or get trashed?  

Top

"August - asters"

August - asters, 

August - stars, 

August - bunches 

Of grapes and ashberry 

Rusty - August!  

Like a child, August 

You play with your apple 

Good-natured and full of weight. 

Like with hand, with your imperial 

Name you do caress the heart: 

August! - Heart! 

Month of late kisses, 

Of late roses and late lightning! 

Of the rain beneath the stars  

August! - Month 

Of the rain beneath the stars!   

Top

Don Juan

1

Under the sixth birch 

At the corner church 

On the frosty dawn 

Wait, Don Juan!  

But with groom, alas, 

And my life I swear, 

There is nowhere 

In my land to kiss!  

We don't have a fountain,  

And the well did freeze, 

Strict, severe eyes 

Does Madonna have.  

And so that the beauties 

Trifles would not hear 

We have loud and clear 

Ringing of the bell.  

Here I would have lived, 

But - I will grow old, 

You don't like my world 

O the handsome one.  

Ah, in a bear coat 

It's hard to recognize you, 

If not for your lips too, 

O Don Juan!   

2

Long upon the foggy dawn 

The snowstorm did weep. 

In a bed of snow they lay 

Don Juan to sleep.  

No hot stars above his head, 

Not a roaring fountain... 

Othodox cross is on the chest 

Of our Don Juan.  

I have brought a Sevillian 

Fan, black, so that night 

That's eternal, for yourself 

Would become more light.   

That you'd see a woman's beauty 

With your own sight, 

I will bring without a doubt 

A heart to you tonight.  

And for now - from distant lands - 

Sleep now, sleep in peace! - 

You have come to me. Complete, 

Don Juan, is your list. 

3

Aren't you tired, after so many roses, 

Cities and toasts 

To love me? You're almost a skeleton, 

I'm almost a ghost.  

And why should I know, that you had to call 

On a higher power? 

And why should I know, that there was smell of Nile 

In my hair?  

No, I better tell you a tale: 

January it was. 

A monk with a mask carried a flashlight. 

Someone threw a rose.  

Someone's drunken voice at cathedral walls 

Prayed and swore. 

Don Juan of Castille met Carmen 

At this hour. 

4

Exactly - midnight. 

Moon - like a hawk. 

"Why - do you peer?" 

"Thus - I peer!" 

"Do you like me?" "No." 

"Do you recognize me?" "Maybe." 

"I am Don Juan." 

"And I am Carmen."  

5

And this Don Juan had Donna Anna, 

And this Don Juan possessed a sword. 

Of the beautiful, unhappy Don Juan 

This from people is the only word. 

 But I was a clever one today: 

I at midnight stepped on roadside, 

Someone went along with me in stride 

Calling names.  

And in fog the staff paled, a strange one.. 

There was no Donna Anna for Don Juan!  

6

And the silk sash is falling 

To his feet - a snake heavenly.. 

And "someday, when she's underground, 

You will calm down" they tell me.  

I see my profile, old 

And arrogant in brocade white. 

And somewhere - guitars - guitars - 

And youths in a cloak like the night.  

And somebody under mask hiding: 

"Recognize!" - "I don't know" - "Recognize!" 

And the silk sash is falling 

On a square round like paradise.  

7

And fanning in eyes of the coming 

Sadness and sin, 

You pass the city - brutally-black, 

Heavenly-thin.  

Covered with torment, like with fog, 

Is your eye. 

In loop - a rose, in all the pockets -  

Words of love. Aye!  

I hear your call over the restaurant 

Violin. 

I send a smile to you from the distance,  

Robber king!  

And then I recognize that same look, 

Spreading my wings,  

With which in Castille at me stared 

Your older sibling. 

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"Above the church there are blue clouds"

Above the church there are blue clouds, 

A crows' cry... 

And pass - the color of ash and sand - 

Revolutionary troops... oh my 

Blue-blooded, my kingly angst!  

They don't have a face, don't have a name - 

Nobody sings! 

You got lost, the Kremlin ringing 

In this banner forest full of wind. 

Lie, Moscow, onto eternal sleep, and pray!  

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To Tsar, on Easter

Open, Open, 

The gates of the tsar!

 Darkness dimmed and poured out far. 

With clean heat 

Burns the altar - 

Resurrect, Christ, 

Yesterday's tsar!  

Without glory fell 

Two-headed eagle. 

Tsar - you were wrong.  

He'll remember inheritance 

Many more times - 

Byzantine sacrilege 

Of your clear eyes.  

Your judges -  

Lightning and wave! 

Tsar! God sought 

You, not men.  

But now there's Easter 

In all the land, 

Sleep in your village 

With a calm mind, 

Don't dream of 

The banners red.  

Tsar! Descendants 

And ancestors - sleep. 

There is a knapsack since 

A throne you won't keep. 

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Stepan Razin

1

Winds have gone to sleep - with golden dawn, 

Night comes - with a mountain of stone, 

And with his princess from hot land 

Rests the rabid chieftain.  

Having gathered his youthful shoulders in a sack 

He listened, his forehead leaning back, 

How over his hot tent it thunders - 

Nightingale's thunder.  

2

Over Volga - night, 

Over Volga - sleep... 

Ornate rugs they have laid down, 

And on them the chieftain has laid 

With a Persian princess - black brows.  

One can't see the stars, one can't hear the waves, 

Oars and darkness extreme, this is all!

And the shuttle bears away into the chieftain's  

Night sinful Persian soul.  

And such a speech 

Did the night hear: 

Don't you want, at last, 

To lie nearer? 

Out of all our women 

You're the pearl! 

Am I this scary 

I'm your all-time slave, 

Persian girl! 

My prisoner!  

--------------------

And she knitted the brows, 

The long brows. 

And she eyes cast down 

Eyes Persian. 

And from her lips 

Only one sigh rings: 

Djal-Eddin.  

--------------------

And over Volga - a ruddy dawn, 

And over Volga - heaven. 

And the drunk crowd roars: 

Get up, chieftain!  

With a Muslim dog you did lie! 

See the tears in the beauty's eyes!  

And she - like death, 

Bit her mouth in blood. 

Thus goes a chieftain's brow so hard.  

This our bed, you dog, you did not want, 

So make do with our baptismal font!  

It's dark in the day, 

In the sky it is clear. 

Red is the shoe 

In the ship's rear.  

And like menacing oak stands Stepan, 

And to very lips pales Stepan.

 Ah, so tiring - it shakes, rocks! 

Hold up, heathens - in the eyes it's dark!  

Here to you is the Persian girl, 

The prisoner girl.  

3

(DREAM OF RAZIN)

And Razin dreams a dream: 

Like a cry of a heron of the swamp. 

And Razin dreams a ringing: 

Like silver droplets drop.  

And Razin dreams of the bottom: 

With flowers, like a kerchief, covered. 

And he dreams of one face - 

Forgotten, with black brows.  

He sits, like God's mother, 

Stringing pearls on a thread. 

And he wants to tell her, 

But only moves lips instead...  

The breath has been stifled - ah 

In the chest there is a glass chip. 

And the glass slope walks past them 

Like a guard who wants to sleep.  

--------------------

Down the Volga-river with  

The steering dawn drove he.  

Over just a single shoe 

Why did you leave me?  

Who will want a beauty 

In just one shoe? 

For the other shoe, friend, 

I will come to you!  

And rings, rings the bracelet: Drowned  

The happiness of Stepan!   

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"From a strict and elegant temple"

From a strict and elegant temple

On the squealing of squares you alight. 

Freedom! The beautiful lady 

Of marquises and Russian knights.  

A dreadful rehearsal is on now - 

Still ahead is the mass! 

O freedom! The partying woman 

On the mad soldier's chest!   

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"Bitterness! On your lips, passion"

Bitterness! On your lips, passion -  

Is eternal aftertaste! 

Bitterness! It is temptation 

For all times - to die at last.  

I from bitterness - am kissing 

Everyone who's young and sweet.

 You from bitterness - another 

By the hand at night do lead.  

With bread I eat, with water swallow 

Bitter woe, bitter sorrow. 

There is one such kind of grass, 

Mother Russia, on your meadows.

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Carmen

1

Divine, childish-plain 

The dress is, and short to the plait. 

How the sides of a pyramid 

Rush sides from the belt. 

What big rings there are 

On the fingers little and dark! 

What big buckles there are 

On the tiny shoes!  

And people eat and argue, 

And people are playing cards. 

You do not know, players, 

What you have bet on the card!  

And she - she needs nothing! 

And she - she needs nothing! 

Here's my chest. Tear my heart out - 

Carmen - and drink my blood!  

2

She stands, throwing back the throat, 

And bit the mouth in blood. 

And set the hand against bosom - 

The left one - where there is love.  

"On your knees!" - "What to you 

Are my knees that I should bend, 

Abbot?"  With these words  

Her last night Carmen did end.   

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Gypsy Wedding