Tsvetaeva M. The Best of Marina Tsvetayeva (translated by Ilya Shambat

March 22, 2002

The most comprehensive translation of Marina Tsvetayeva in English
language, prepared for 110th anniversary of her birth. Translations from
Russian original in chronological order. Includes classics and lesser-known
poems, translated directly from Russian anthology. For inquiries, contact
ilya_shambat@yahoo.com.

To Mother

In the old Strauss waltz for the first time
We had listened to your quiet call,
Since then all the living things are alien
And the knocking of the clock consoles.

We, like you, are gladly greeting sunsets,
And are drunk on nearness of the end.
All, with which on better nights we're wealthy
Is put in the hearts by your own hand.

Bowing to a child's dreams with no tire.
(Only crescent looked in them indeed
Without you)! You have led your kids past
Bitter lifetime of the thoughts and deeds.

From the early age the sad one's close to us,
Laughter bores and home we left behind..
Our ship not in good times left the harbor
And it sails by will of every wind!

Azure isle of childhood is paling,
On the deck of ship we stand alone.
It appears, oh mother, to your daughters
You've left an inheritance of woe.

x x x

The street awakens. She looks, exhausted
With the mute windows' sullen eyes,
On sleepy faces, red from the cold,
That with thoughts chase the stubborn sleep away.
The blackened trees with rime are covered -
With trace mysterious of the night's fun,
In gleaming brocade sad ones are standing,
Just like the dead the alive among.
The gray coat mingles, trampled upon,
The forage-cup with a wreathe, a bored look,
And the red arms, pressed to the ears,
And the black apron with the tied books.
The street awakens. She looks, unpleasant
With mute windows' sullen eyes, it would seem.
To sleep, in a happy thought be forgotten,
What life seems to us, this is a dream!

Little World

Children - are staring of eyes so frightful,
Mischievous legs on a wooden floor,
Children - is sun in the gloomy motives,
Hypotheses' of happy sciences world.

Eternal disorder in the ring's gold,
Tender word's whispers in semi-sleep,
On the wall in a cozy child's room, the dreaming
Peaceful pictures of birds and sheep.

Children - is evening, evening on the couch,
In the fog, through the window, glimmer street lamps,
A measured voice of the tale of King Saltan,
Mermaid-sisters of seas from tales.

Children - is rest, brief moment of respite,
A trembling vow before God's eyes,
Children - are the world's tender riddles,
Where in the riddle the answer hides!

Before a Little Coffin

To Katherine Pavlovna Peshkova

Mother has painted the coffin brightly.
The tiny one sleeps in Sunday attire.
Onto the forehead no longer is falling
The light-brown hair;

A round comb no longer is pressing,
Having seen so little, of the child's head;
Only of joy knew
The heart of the kid.

For five years so happily lived she
Much played the deft arms!
Fantasies, fantasies mid lilies,
Nobody disturbed them.

The flowers seek a place nearer to her,
(She seems tight in her new bed).
The flowers know: Little Katya
A golden heart had.

Epitaph

L.A.T.

ON THE GROUND
"Hid in the corner, you look so stubborn,
We wait for long. Say, you agree?"
"Ah, I don't know. Leave me, mother!
Leave me. It's all the same to me!"

IN THE GROUND
"Is not the breath of a tired chest heavy?
In tight grave it's always dark, you see?"
"Ah, I don't know. Leave me, people!
Leave me! It's all the same to me!"

OVER THE GROUND
"Did I love passionately with my heart, too?
Evil - did it so anger thee?"
"O my good God, I agree completely!
I'm tired. It's all the same to me!"

Lady with Camelias

Your whole way with shining evil's coal
Margaret, they all do bravely judge.
What's your fault? The body sinned as such,
Innocent you have retained your soul.

To all people it's the same, I know,
To all nodded with a blurry smile.
And with this sorrowful semi-smile
You have wept yourself long time ago.

Who will know? Whose hand will help along?
No exception to the rule, one thing entrances!
They eternally await embraces,
They eternally await, "I'm thirsty! Be my own!"

Day and night the bane of false confessions..
Day and night, tomorrow, and once more!
Spoke more eloquently than the word
Your dark glance, the martyr's dark expression.

The accursed ring is growing narrow,
On the goddess of the world avenges fate..
Smiling childishly, into your face
A young tender boy glances with sorrow.

The entire world is saved by love!
In but her salvation and defense is.
All's in love. O Margaret, sleep in peace.
All's in love. I'm saved because I love.

Terminal Silhouette

I know you not and in no way
I want to lose starry illusions
With such a face in worst confusion
People are loyal to a ray.

All that the fate has marked for grave
Have such closed-off face instead.
You are a page that was not read
And no, you will not be a slave.

A slave with such a face? Oh no!
There is no error here by chance.
Your slender figure and your glance
Will be secret to many, I know.

A heavy bracelet of your hair
Under the thrown-over scarf
(You'd do with guitar or a harp)
And your pale face, as pale as air.

I know you not. And possibly
You're kind and moderate like all.
Maybe! May these be ravings all!
For only raving ones may be!

Perhaps the day is not so far
When I will fathom what's unseemly...
But this to err - it is so relieving!
It is so easy yet to err!

Touching the scarf with a light hand,
There where the whistles shrilly blow.
This is the you that I will know
Where you just like a riddle stand.

In Paris

Homes reach the stars, the sky's below,
The land in smoke to it is near.
Inside the big and happy Paris
Remains the secretive despair.

The evening boulevards are noisy,
Gone are the sundown's final rays,
And there are couples everywhere
Trembling of lips, daring of eyes.

I'm here alone. To trunk of chestnut
It is so nice one's head to lean!
And like in the abandoned Moscow
In heart weep verses of Rostand.

Paris at night is sad and alien,
Dear to the heart is madness gone!
I'm going home, there's vial of sorrow
And tender portrait of someone.

There's someone's glance, sad and fraternal.
There's tender profile on the wall.
Rostand and the Reichstadtian martyr
And Sara - in sleep come they all!

Within the big and happy Paris
I dream of grass, of clouds and rain
And laughter far, and shadow near,
And deep just like before is pain.

Prayer

Christ and the Lord! I thirst for marvel
Now, here, as the day would start!
The life is like a book to me,
So let me die. Let me depart.

You're wise, and sternly "Now be patient,
Your time's not ripe" you will not say.
Yourself you gave me - too much now!
I thirst at once - for every way!

I want it all: with soul of gypsy
To run to plunder with a song,
To suffer for all near an organ,
To run to war, an Amazon;

To divine stars in a black tower
The kids through shadows to lead...
That yesterday would be a legend,
That each and every day be mad!

I love the cross, the silk, the helmet,
The minute's trace of soul of mine..
You gave me childhood - better than fiction
Now let me die at seventeen!

To Asya

Evening noise in the burning sunset
On twilight of winter day.
The third call. Hurry, remember me,
You that are going away!
Emerald wave is awaiting you,
Splash of an oar of blue,
To live our life underground, difficult,
Was not possible to you.
Well then, ahead, that our murky struggle
Into our ranks never calls,
If the transparent wetness appeals to you
Flight of the silver seagulls!
Give my regards to the hot, the brilliant,
Burning sun,
Your question pose to all strong and bright -
Answer will come!
Evening noise in the burning sunset
On twilight of winter day.
The third call. Hurry, remember me,
You that are going away!

Books in Red Binding

From heaven of a childhood life
A farewell to me you're sending,
The ever-loyal dear friends
Within a red worn down binding.
On learning homework from school,
At once I ran to see you yet.
"It's late" - "Please, Mother, ten more lines" -
But happily she did forget.
The fires flicker in a lamp..
How nice it is to read at home!
To sounds of Greeg, Schumann and Kui
I learned about the fate of Tom.
It's dark.. the air is growing cold..
Tom's full of faith in Becky's joy.
Within the darkness of the cave
Wanders with torch Indian Joe..
A cemetery.. owl is screaming..
(I'm scared) And now through hassocks flies
The punctilious widow's foster-child,
Like in a barrel Diogenes.
Lighter than Sun is the throne hall,
Over the graceful boy - a crown..
At once - a beggar! God! He said:
"Forgive, I'm heir to the throne."
To darkness comes, who comes from her.
Sad is the destiny of Britain..
O, wherefore not amid red books
Not to go back to sleep again
Before a lamp? O golden times
Where sight is braver, heart is purer:
O golden times, I say again:
Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, Prince and Beggar!

New Moon

Over meadow stands new moon,
Over boundary of dew.
Come, we'll make a friend of you,
Dear, distant, alien.

In the day I hide, am quiet.
Moon above - I have no might!
I rush on this lunar night
To the shoulder of beloved.

I'll never ask me, "Who's he?"
All to know, your lips will say!
Hugs are rude but in the day,
In the day the fit is funny.

In the day, torn by a demon proud,
With a smile on lips I lie.
Night, though.. Darling, far away..
Crescent stands above the wood!

On Parting

Mein Herz tragt schwere Ketten.
Die Du mir angelegt.
Ich mocht mein Leben wetten
Dass Keine schwerer tragt

Frankfurt song

Teasing and tempting and playing
We loved like children, us both
But somebody, hiding a smile,
Set up the ungentle nets -
And here we are at the harbor,
Not seeing the wished-for abodes,
But knowing that I will be yours
In the heart, without words, until death.

You told me of all things - so early!
I guessed them so late! In our hearts
A wound is eternal, a silent
Question exists in our eyes,
The desert on earth is so endless,
The heaven, so high, has no stars,
Revealed is the tender secret,
And frost rules for centuries.

I will talk to shades! O my dear,
To forget you I do not have might,
Your visage can't move under shadow
Of eyelids gone over my eyes...
It's darkening... Shutters have closed,
On all things descending is night...
I love you, one ghostly-eternal,
And only you - and always!

To the Next One

Tender caresses of kind little sisters
Are ready for you.
With the birds' songs, O the charmed prince,
We're waiting for you.
Branch drunk with sun, you grew, visage of heaven
Before my eyes.
Like a girl tender, like a child quiet,
All - surprise.
They'll often say: "These sisters are treacherous
In each reply!"
Cocky with daring ones, kids with a boy, timid
With someone shy.
We love, like you, melting clouds and birches
And melted snow.
We love the tales about grandmother's daughters,
Little and slow!
Pitiful is the wind, spring remembering,
Gems in the skies..
We wait for you, one that knows nothing of life,
And has blue eyes!

Meeting

Evening dimmed, like ourselves charmed
With this first warmth of the spring.
Stirring alive, Arbat was alarmed;
With sympathetic tenderness, the kind
Gale touched us with a tired wing.
In our souls, raised on a fairy tale,
Sorrow quietly cried for past things.

He came - so unexpected! So hurriedly -
He who helped in all things before.
And far off in a line unconsolably
The streetlamps' radiant dots
Burned though light darkness some more...
All around flowers we bought;
We bought a bouquet.. What for?

Quietly withered away unseen garden
In the sky violet-red.
How to be saved from late trouble?
All returned. For a moment? For long?
We speechlessly looked at sun going to bed,
And Gogol nodded, thoughtful, from
The pedestral like a brother, sad.

Angelique

Near is the meek image of the dark chapel
Where the organ does weep!
Alien to me is earthly joy.
I'm Angelique.

Quiet singing in unison sounds,
Unclear are the windows, it seems,
Elegant vaults have taken control
Of my life like dreams.

My sight in childhood slipped away there,
It's tormented by the towns.
Talk and the shining hall bore me indeed
And the world wears me down.

Someone lit candles before the Virgin.
(Does the sick healing await?)
This is the reason I'm silent midst you:
I'm different all the way.

Sweet is the weakness of arms relaxed,
Light to me here is all woe.
Dark-leafed ivy, as if they were friends
Embraced the stones;

Grass has blossomed here all the way
Like almond, white and pink...
I need no joy. I don't pity the world:
I'm Angelique.

From Four till Seven

Like in a mirror, there's shade in the heart
I'm bored alone - and with men...
Slowly drags the light of the day
From four till seven!
Everybody is cruel in the dusk,
Don't go to people - they'll lie.
Fingers have wound into a knot
The kerchief. I want to cry.
Only don't torture me so,
If you hurt me I'll forgive!
From four till seven o'clock
I endlessly grieve.

Easter in April

Eggs on a plate warmed the soul with delight
And ringing of bells.
What is more radiant than Easter in April,
People, pray tell?
Rays are caressing the grass, from the street
Phrases and words...
Quietly I wander from porch to the barn,
Measuring boards.
Waves of Easter ringing, external dawn,
Like glow in the sky,
Sound of a gramophone of our neighbors
Bitterly cries,
From kitchen follows it endlessly woeful
Harmonica's sound,
Much has gone on, oh yes much has gone on..
The past, fall down!
No, I don't get help from eggs on the dish!
It's late... Gone are the rays..
What is more hopeless than Easter in April,
People, please say?

Contact through Dreams

All's for a moment, that people create,
Glimmer of new things dims,
But yet unaltered, like sorrow, remains
Contact through dreams.

Calming.. If but to forget.. but to sleep..
Sweetness of eyelids over eyes..
Dreams open fates of the future, and bind
For centuries.

All that I stealthily thought, is to me
Clear like a crystal clean.
Us, with a timeless and endless riddle,
United the dream.

I do not pray, "O God, make to vanish
Torment of coming day!"
Oh no, "Oh God, send to him about me
A dream," I pray.

May I get pale at the meeting with you -
Sorrowful is it to meet!
Secret is one: The contact through dreams. We are
Powerless before it.

x x x

Azure are the fields, where our dreaming had met.
Don't rush my memory!
Be truthful: Anew you'll touch the silver cup
Not soon with a one such as me.

All's destroyed, not by our volition. And sweet
Is the sigh over lost heaven! May be! -
You're all - May's! For you is my sorrow of May.
All that's dreamed of in May is for thee.

Here we don't need to rendezvous. Truly, we'll meet
Where the truth with the truth I shall meet;
Every evening on bridges shaky and light
We come out one another to greet.

A familiar figure I'll see from afar -
Heart beats rarely, then frequently, though...
Like before you're not wrathful, not vengeful, oh no!
And your eyes are the same, full of woe.

These are dreams. To us both the night is still dear,
Bravely breaking all barriers so.
But the image of her that could not lie, my friend,
Once awakened, don't chase like a foe.

And when he will appear in the evening shade
Under call of a previous song,
Nod to happiness that has elapsed with a smile
And recall without rage the one gone.

Hello from a Train

Louder is noise, as if taller than buildings,
Train is shivering for the final time,
Final time... we're riding... now my winter
Dream, say goodbye!

My winter dream, good to the point of tears,
From you fortune is bearing me away.
Judged in this way! I need no dream nor burden
Along the way.

Under train's noise to swim to far-off days,
Still foggy, to trust marvels is so sweet.
World is so wide! Maybe within it you
I will forget?

The train's darkness presses on the shoulders,
Into window pours a torrent of the fog...
My distant friend, please fathom - self-deception
Is all this talk!

Why the new land? The glimmer of same stars,
Same laughter, war with boredom, everywhere,
And your sweet gesture will be as a torment
Here, like there.

x x x

It is true, is it not, that our souls are not used yet to parting?
With a shimmer of glimmering wings they each other call!
Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly interwoven,
But forgot the remembering souls.

Every evening, lit up by the will of a sorceress gentle.
Every evening, when over the hills, in the heart, stands the fog,
To the soul not forgetting the former deception comes near
With a meek and not confident walk.

Like the wind, that with sharp gusts awakens the things of times prior,
From the glimmering lines your are smiling at me once again.
All is permitted, all! You from dream, I in dream. Will not judge us
The angst of the day.

Someone higher betrayed us to nameless delicious torment,
(Many wanderings blunderings through dark and snow there will be!)
Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly intevowen...
Not responsible for this are we!

Except for Love

Did not love, did not weep. Oh no, did not love, but regardless
I have showed in the shadows the beloved likeness to you.
In our sleep all things did not appear like love:
No cause, no clues.

From the evening hall only to us nodded this image,
Only we - you and me - to it pitiful verses bore.
What has bound us stronger than love has bound others
Is that we adore.

But the gust was escaped, and tenderly somebody approached,
He who could not have prayed, but did love. To judge do not hurry!
Like the most tender note in awakening of the soul
You're memorable to me.

In this sorrowful soul you had wandered, like in open house..
(In our house, in the spring)... Forgotten don't call me!
All my minutes are filled with you, except for love -
The most melancholy.

In the Winter

Behind the walls once again
Bells' whining is heard.
Several streets between us,
And several words!
The city in darkness sleeps,
Silver sickle appears,
The falling snow scatters
Your collar with stars.
Do your wounds ail for a long time?
Do the calls wound of the past?
Teases the new, seductive,
And shining glance.

(Blue or brown?) It matters more than
Wise pages to the heart!
Rime turns to white the
Eyelashes' darts...
Behind the walls, bell's whining
Lacks strength, is barely heard.
Several streets between us,
And several words!
Clear crescent is leaning into
Books' and poets' souls,
Into your downy collar
In sheets is pouring snow.

Truth

The exhausted world sighs of confusion,
The pink even streams oblivion...
We were parted by shadows, not people,
Oh my dearest boy, heart of mine!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Walls are towering, in a fog dressing,
Spear was dropped without strength by the sun..
In the evening world I'm cold. Where are you,
Oh my dearest boy, heart of mine?

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
You will not hear. The walls are encroaching,
All things blend into one, all dies down...
Nothing did, does, will substitute for you,
Oh my dearest boy, heart of mine!

Another Prayer

Once again I am bending my knees before you,
Having noticed your garland of stars far apace.
Let me know, dear Christ, that not all things are ghosts,
Allow me, at last, not a ghost to embrace!

I am tormented by these long days. With no worry,
With no aim, in half-darkness, I am so lost..
I can love ghosts, but can one survive on this planet
For eighteen years solely on ghosts?

And they sing, and they write, joy is in the beginning!
Blossom with your full jubilant soul!
Isn't it true, there's no happiness without sorrow?
I don't have any friends save the dead, none at all.

Those enflamed with another belief for all time, is it so,
From the world in empty desert had hid?
No, I don't need the smiles gained at the cost
Of profaning the highest shrines of my creed.

I don't need bliss that comes at the price of debasement.
I don't need love! I'm sorrowful - not for her.
In the quiet kingdom of beloved ghosts, only ghosts -
Give me my soul to give back, Savior!

To a Growing-Up One

Outside the window once again
A fir is lit by snow..
This cradle of yours, my dear friend,
Why did you outgrow?

The snowflakes fly, to all adhere,
And melt too fast to know..
What therefore for, you stupid one,
Did you it outgrow?

Days' weight upon it didn't press
T'was easy sleeping there,
And now your eyes have darker grown
And gold of your hair..

It burned your sight, but will it give
Happiness, this wide world?
Why, why did you outgrow
Your cradle, my dear girl?

Girl Death

With a milky and even wave
The moon washed the cold parquet.
I sweetly was sleeping under the moon,
To a hot cheek pressing a bouquet.

With light and with sleep doubly disturbed,
I opened the eyes sleepy,
And like a pink angel without wings
The Girl Death leaned to me.

Medallion trembles around the thin neck,
A blush on her cheeks pours,
It's visible, that she ran: dusted
A bit are her bluish shoes.

There's fanciful pattern of golden edge,
A turquoise thread in the curls.
"We'll play on the road, together us two:
You - little boy, me - a girl

Put on (you're the knight) my scarf of lace!"
I silently gave the bouquet...
And with a milky and even cold wave
The moon washed the parquet.

Boy-Madness

I have brought you a bouquet,
Scarlet-red roses, poppies.
I'm not same in anything,
I'm the happy boy-madness.

I'll blow out a yellow candle -
It will be a flashlight pink.
And a golden diadem
I will wear like a king.

I'm a conqueror sleepy
Kingdoms, a mage. Is't full, King?
I'm a doctor that is healing
Without pills or medicines.

Why the medicines? Why pills too?
We will dance together, kid!
Now flies mounted on a chair
A completely empty bed.

Where he's from - it is my secret:
Serpent, red, will weave and hiss.
I am laughing, all are laughing.
I'm the happy boy-madness.

On a New Year

Let's meet the stranger with a lamp,
With a quiet, loyal flame.
Only no hidden whisper,
No whisper about him!

We do not need the bright light now,
Dim the lamp till it's barely lit.
Only no sight of the better,
No sight of it!

May in a careless worry
Year like a day only seem!
Only no thought of eternal,
No thought about him!

We will again become "sisters",
Nearer to each other sit.
Only no words of the past,
No words about it!

Schoolgirl

today all night long could not sleep
From the magickal month-of-May noise!
Quietly pulled on the pantyhose
And to the window slipped.

I'm a rebel with whirlwind in the blood,
Only passion and cold matter to me.
I have read Bourge too: One can't be
Happy when one is unloved.

"He"'s rejected since he was twelve,
Plays but Greeg and but Liszt - and come look:
He is smart and well-read, like a book,
And a poet as well!

For but one of his looks of fire
I am ready to fall on my knees!
But my parents our happiness
Do not desire.

Tverskaya

Here's the world, where glass-cases are shining,
Here's Tverskaya - we miss it eternally.
Whom does Asya need more than Marina?
Whom does dear Asya need more than me?

In a lively row walking, drinking
Sunset, voices, lights, - all that's there,
And at times lowering our eyelids
Under someone's assiduous stare.

Moscow April night is only ours,
Only ours, the flames shining like darts -
Street to grown ups, to us - Tverskaya
Is a cradle of semi-grown hearts.

This, a cradle of golden sunrise,
The world marvels at what's in morn given..
Here's a window with Tate's diamonds,
With lights here's a window again..

We will know all by faith or by sense,
Starry distance and width of the sky!
Pink stands Strastnoi monastery
Over grey plaza towering high.

Without moment of silence we're walking.
All dear words, all dear traits - in all truth!
Unforgettable April - Tverskaya
You're the cradle of our youth!

At Age Fifteen

Ring, sing, oblivion preventing,
The words "fifteen years old" in my soul.
Why, did I grow up and become big?
Nothing consoles.

Just yesterday, into green grove of birches
Free, in the morning I ran away.
Just yesterday I frolicked without hairdo,
Just yesterday!

Spring ringing of the far-away belltowers
Told me: "Run and sit and lie!"
And every step frolicking was allowed,
And every cry!

What is ahead? What failure lies before me?
In all deceit, all is forbidden.
Thus, crying, with dear childhood I parted
At age fifeen.

Drum

To rock a cradle this morning in May?
Proud neck in lasso, like some?
Distaff to jailbird, to herder - a shawn,
To me - a drum.

Role of a woman's not dear to me:
I fear not wounds, but boredom.
Gives to me everything - honor and might -
This my drum.

So many countries I have not seen!
Trees are in bloom, stands the sun..
Kill all the sorrow around you in flight,
Beat, my drum!

Beat, now you drummer! Ahead of all!
All else - deceit for the dumb!
Why does it conquer the heart on the way.
How is the drum?

Autumn in Tarus

Clear morning is not hot, lightly
You run through the meadow.