It’ll sneak up on me, so quiet -
Like the forest during the night.
I’ll bring you the dove, - I’ll hide it
In my apron and bring it inside.
I’ll stand in your doorway - inert!
Shame - like the weight of a stone.
But the apron’s too tight for a bird,
And the bird will fly on its own!
March 19, 1920
By Marina Tsvetaeva
Translation by Andrey Kneller
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