You overshadow the sun in the sky,
In your hands, you hold the stars!
And wind-like, one day, I would like
To push your doors ajar,
And babble before you, and riot,
And lower my eyes by your side,
And weeping, suddenly, go quiet,
As a forgiven child might.
July 2, 1916
By Marina Tsvetaeva
Translation by Andrey Kneller
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