В старом вальсе
For the first time, in the Strauss waltz
We discerned your quiet, haunting calling.
Now, we’re strangers to the living souls,
And we find the racing clocks consoling,
Just like you, we hail the setting sun,
Get intoxicated with the nearing end.
We are rich with all that you have done
And instilled into our hearts again.
You served our dreams without growing weary,
(Only the moon takes notice of them now)
As you led your children past the dreary,
Hectic life, - evading it somehow.
From early on, we loved the broken-hearted,
And knew that home-life wasn’t made for us.
One dismal day, our ship had left the harbor
And now it’s freely tossed by every gust.
The azure isle of our childhood drifts farther,
We stand alone upon the deck, in disbelief.
It appears that for your daughters, mother,
You’ve bequeathed just melancholy grief!
By Marina Tsvetaeva
Translation by Andrey Kneller
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