Уж сколько их упало в эту бездну,
Into this chasm, many fell,
It’s gaping wide!
My time will come and I, as well,
Will go one night.
And all that struggled, shone, rejoiced
Will be ensnared -
My emerald eyes, my gentle voice,
My golden hair.
Your daily bread will come. You’ll live
Without a pause.
And everything will be - as if
I never was!
Like children, changeable in mood,
And sometimes brash,
I loved it when the firewood
Would turn to ash.
The cello, cavalcades, the bell
In village square…
- Without me, who lived, as well,
Among you there!
From all - I never knew just when
To say enough, -
I now demand your faith again
And ask for love.
Each day, in speech and on a page:
For all I’ve shared,
For I’m, - at twenty years of age, -
Full of despair,
For that it’s certain - in reflection,
I never take offense,
For insuppressible affection,
And proud stance,
For all that’s happening above me,
Each truth and lie…
- O listen to me! – Also love me
For I shall die.
December 8, 1913
By Marina Tsvetaeva
Translation by Andrey Kneller
Marina Tsvetaeva >