[edit] The Best of Marina Tsvetaeva (3)
[edit] From Cycle "Poems to Blok"
[edit] 1. A bird in the hand is your name…
A bird in the hand is your name,
An icicle on the tongue is your name,
One movement of your lips is your name,
Five letters is your name.
A ball caught in the flight it is,
A silver tambourine between the lips,
A stone, into a quiet pond thrown,
Will sob the name by which you're known.
Your loud name resonates in the light
Crackling of the hooves in the night.
And a trigger with crackling ample
Will call it back into the temple.
Your name — forbid this! —
Your name — the eyes kiss,
In tender chill of motionless eyelids
Your name — to the snow give a kiss.
Key, ice, blue gulp — deep
With your name is the sleep.
15 April 1916
[edit] 2. A knight without reproach…
A knight without reproach,
A ghost, a gentle one,
Who is it that called you
Into my life so young?
In fog greyish-blue
Dressed in a chausible
Of snow, stand you.
Around the city
By the wind I'm chased,
For the third evening
A thief I sensed.
The blue-eyed
Singer of snow
Stared at me so.
The snow-white swan
Puts down under my feet. Flow
Feathers
And slowly fall on the snow.
Thus on the feathers
I walk to the door
Behind which is death.
Beyond blue windows
He sings to me,
With far-away tambourines
He sings to me,
With far-off cry
With swan's cry
He calls.
My dear ghost!
All's my dream, I know.
Do a good thing:
Amen, amen, scatter so!
Amen.
[edit] 3. You walk out to the Falling Sun…
You walk out to the Falling Sun,
You'll see the evening light,
You walk out to the Falling Sun,
And the snowstorm the trace blots out.
Past the windows — passionless —
In the quiet snow you will go,
My beautiful believer in true God,
Quiet to the light of my soul.
I do not lust after your soul!
Your footpath is inviolable.
Into the arm, white from the kisses,
I will not hammer my nail.
And I will not respond to the name,
And I will not pull with my arm,
To the sacred image of wax
I will only bow from afar.
And, standing under the slow snow,
I will fall on my knees in the snow,
And in your holy name
I will kiss the evening snow —
There, where with a majestic foot
In the coffin quiet you did go,
Quiet to light — holy glories —
You the keeper of my soul.
[edit] 4. To beast — a den…
To beast — a den,
To wanderer — road
To dead one — quay
To each — their own way.
To a woman — to connive,
To the king — to rule,
To me — to glory
Your name.
[edit] 5. Cupolas are burning in Moscow!..
Cupolas are burning in Moscow!
Bells are ringing here in Moscow!
And coffins here stand in row —
In them queens do sleep, and the kings.
And you do not know, in Kremlin at dawn
Breathing's lighter — than on all the earth!
And you do not know, in Kremlin at dawn
Till the dawn I pray and sing.
And you walk on by this your Nieva
At the time, when on river Moskva
I stand and my head bow
And the flashlights cling.
With insomnia I am loving you,
With insomnia I am hearing you —
Of the time when, on the whole Kremlin too
Awaken those who ring..
But my river — with your river flows,
And my arm — with your arm goes
They won't come together, Oh my joy
Dawn catches dawn until.
[edit] 6. They thought he was a man!..
They thought he was a man!
And they forced him to die.
He died forevermore.
About a dead angel, cry!
He sang the evening beauty
At sundown of the day.
Shimmer hypocritically
Three waxen flames.
Rays went from him —
On the snow, hot strings!
Three candles of wax —
To the sun! Light-bearing!
O look now, how his
Dark eyelids have sunken in!
O look now, how his
Wings are broken!
The black reader reads,
Crosses the arms idle...
The dead singer lies
And celebrates Sunday.
[edit] 7. Like a weak ray through black gloom of the hells…
Like a weak ray through black gloom of the hells —
Thus is your voice against exploding cannonballs.
And in the thunder, just like some seraph
Announces in a voice tone-deaf —
Somewhere from foggy mornings long ago —
How he did love us blind and nameless so —
For sin — disloyalty, for coat of blue..
For how, Russia, he did not stop loving you,
And more tender than all — that, the most deep
Into night vanished he to do the wicked deeds!
And near the temple — how with a lost pen
He leads and leads… and about that then,
What days await us, how God will tell lies,
How you will call the sun — and it won't rise!
Thus, as one with prisoner
(Or child is silent in the sleep no more)
Before us came — on square wide and far —
Alexander Blok's holy heart.
[edit] 8. Here is he — look — tired of the foreign lands…
Here is he — look — tired of the foreign lands,
A chief without friends.
Here — drinks from mountain rapids with his hand —
A knight with no land.
There's all for him: knighthood, and land,
Mother, and bread.
Great's your inheritance — so rule this land,
Friend without friends!
[edit] 9. His friends — do not bother him!..
His friends — do not bother him!
His servants — do not bother him!
It was so evident on his face:
Not from this world does my kingdom come.
Eternal snowstorms circled the veins
Hunched-over shoulders bent from the wings,
In singing cut, into baked-over flame
He let his soul go like a swan.
Fall then, O fall then, copper heavy!
Wings are ordained correctly: To fly!
Lips, that have shouted the word: Respond! —
They know, that this is not there — to die!
He drinks the dawn, drinks the sea - in full
Revels. — Don't serve the requiem!
Of one who forever ordered: Be! —
There is enough bread left to feed him!
[edit] 10. Not a broken rib…
Not a broken rib —
A broken wing.
Not to the shooters shot —
Through chest. Not to take out
This bullet. Wing can't be repaired.
He walked impaired.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Sticky is crown of thorns on the head!
What is the noise of mob to one dead,
The swan's down of woman's flattery...
He walked, deaf and lonely,
Freezing over the sunsets
With emptiness of eyeless statues.
But one thing still lived in him:
The broken wing.
Between 15 and 25 August 1921
[edit] 11. Without word, without call…
Without word, without call —
Like a thatcher from the roof falls.
And maybe, again
He comes — you lie in the cradle?
You burn and don't dim,
The light of weeks several..
Which of the mortals
Rocks your cradle?
The blessed heaviness!
Singing chestnut that prophesies!
Oh, who will tell me
In which cradle you lie?
"While it's not sold!"
With jealousy in my head
With a great detour
I'll walk the Russian land.
The midnight countries
Will go from end to end.
Where's his wound the mouth,
His eyes' bluish lead?
Take him! Hold tightly!
To love him and love him only!
O, who will whisper
In which cradle you lie?
Pearly grains,
Muslin shade full of sleep.
Not laurel but thorn —
Sharp-toothed shade of a cap.
Not angel, but bird
Opened two white wings!
And to be born once more,
That could be swept by the wind?!
Tear him! Hold tightly!
Just don't give away! Hold high!
Oh, who will breathe to me
In which cradle you lie?
And maybe false is
My feat, and my labor futile.
How you're put in the ground,
Maybe — you'll sleep till pipe call.
The giant indenture
Of your temples — catches my sight.
Such an exhaustion —
Can't be lifted even with pipes!
The country pasture,
Rusty, quiet reliably.
The janitor will show me
In which cradle you lie.
[edit] 12. Like drunk, like sleepy…
Like drunk, like sleepy
Unawares, without caution,
The dimples of temples:
Sleepless conscience.
Empty eye sockets:
All dead and light.
Empty glass of a dreamer
And man with second sight.
Not you on
Still rustling pile of garbage
Carried out —
Returning by Hades' gorge?
Did not this,
Ringing with a silver bell,
Head flow past
The sleepy Gebr?
[edit] 13. Thus, O the Lord! And this my prayer…
Thus, O the Lord! And this my prayer
Accept for temple's confirmation.
I sing not pleasures of my love —
I sing the wound of my nation.
Not nasty person's rusty trunk —
Granite, with people's knees rubbed coarse.
Hero and king given to all,
To all — a singer — righteous — corpse.
Not bashful at the coffin boards,
Breaking upon Dnieper the ices,
Russia — on Easter we do swim
To you with pouring thousand-voices.
Thus, heart, there will be cry and praise!
Let your cry — which thousand?
The mortal love is jealous so.
The other's at the chorus glad.
[edit] To Akhmatova
[edit] 1. O muse of weeping, the most beautiful muse!..
O muse of weeping, the most beautiful muse!
O you the child of white night, ever mad and fierce!
A black snowstorm over Russia you send
And your cries our hearts like flying arrows pierce.
And we tumble down and a deaf "Oh" —
A hundred thousand people your name are calling:
Anna Akhmatova! The name is a giant sigh,
And she who is nameless into the abyss is falling.
We're blessed that along with you we walk the same
Earth, that the sky is the same overhead;
And he, who is wounded with your mortal fate,
As an immortal goes onto his deathbed.
In my singing city the cupolas are aflame,
And wandering blind man praises the Spassky light..
And I give to you my city that's full of bells,
Akhmatova, and my heart I give to you beside.
[edit] 2. What are people's wiles to me? Holding…
What are people's wiles to me? Holding
My head I stand,
On late dawn I sing
Holding my head.
Ah, I have been raised on the crest
Of a wave wrathful and mad!
I sing you, that you are alone among us,
Like moon overhead!
That, having flown like a raven on the heart,
Pierced the clouds so.
Hook-nosed one, whose wrath is deadly and
Whose mercy's deadly also.
That over my Kremlin made of fine gold
Has spread out her night,
That tied my neck as if with a belt
With singing delight.
Ah, I am happy! Never the dawn
Had been more clear,
Ah, I am happy, that for your sake
I'm leaving as a beggar —
That you, whose voice, narrowed my breath —
O depth, O haze —
That by the name I called
The Village of the Tsar muse.
[edit] 3. Just one more gigantic flap…
Just one more gigantic flap —
Eyelids are quiet.
O, dear body! O the ash
Of bird so light!
I sang and waited, what I did
In fog of day.
So little body was in her,
And so much sigh.
Her dreamy sleepiness is not
Humanly dear.
Something of eagle and of angel
There was in her.
She sleeps, and chorus lulls her to
Garden of Eden.
As if he's not sated with song,
The sleeping demon!
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Hours, days, centuries — Not us,
Not our rooms yet.
And monument does not recall
Already, bent.
The broom is doing naught for long,
And sweetly heave
Over the Muse of Village of the Tsar
The nettle's leaves.
[edit] 4. Mother's name is Anna…
Mother's name is Anna,
Lev — of the child.
In his name is fury,
In her is quiet.
Red is his hair —
Tulip's head!
So, Hossanah
To the little tsar!
God give him lungs
And the smile of Mom
And a look of
Pearl-seeking one.
God, attentively
Look after him:
Tsar's son's more divine
Than the other sons.
Red lion-cub
With green eyes,
Heavy burden is on your head!
Northern and Southern oceans
And thread of pearl
Black rosary is in your hand.
[edit] 5. You repeat nobody. How many…
You repeat nobody. How many
Companions and friends! And
Pride and bitterness rule over
This youth so tender.
Remember the crazy day at the port
Threats of the Southern wind,
Roar of the Caspian — and in the mouth
A rose's wing.
Like a gypsy I gave to you
A stone in a cut frame,
Like a gypsy I lied to you
Something about fame…
And — high at the sails —
Teenager in blue blouse.
Thunder of sea and the menacing call
Of the wounded Muse.
[edit] 6. You won't leave alone! I'm a warden…
You won't leave alone! I'm a warden,
You're an escort. The fate is one.
And one in the frigid empty
Order for horses is to us given.
And my temperament is peaceful!
And clear are my eyes!
Let me go, Mr. Escort, now
To take a walk to that pine!
[edit] 7. That from catafalques and from cribs…
That from catafalques and from cribs
You, ripping away the cover,
You that fan the winds
And snowstorms send over,
Sending fevers, poems and wars —
Serf-keeper! Black magician! —
I have heard the menacing roar
Of lions, of the chariot preaching.
I hear voices in passionate tones —
And a steadfastly silent one.
I see the red sails —
And a black one them among.
Either by ocean you lead the way,
With the full breast — or by air
I, like sun, wait, holding out my chest
To the judgment that does death bear.
[edit] 8. People shouted on the street…
People shouted on the street,
Smoke flew from the bakery place.
I remembered the ruby mouth
Of a street singer with narrow face.
In the dark kerchief with flowers —
Honored by your civility
You were drowned in the crowd
Of praying ones at Sergei-Trinity,
Pray for me, beautiful one,
Sorrowful one and mad,
How the forests will crown you as
The lashing mother of god.
[edit] 9. To the golden-lipped Anne — to a word…
To the golden-lipped Anne — to a word
That all of Russia redeems!
Carry away my voice
And my heavy sigh, wind.
About quiet bow of the earth among
Golden fields, O the burning skies,
Tell the story; and also about
From the agony blackened eyes.
You attained once again
In the thundering height!
You — the nameless one!
Carry love of mine
To the gold-lipped Anne —
All of Russia!
[edit] 10. At the thin wire over oats' wave…
At the thin wire over oats' wave
Like thousand voices — is the voice today!
And — holy, holy, holy — tabors passing by
Speak with the same voice, O the holy,
I stand and I listen and I rub the corn ear,
And voice locks me up with a dark cupola.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Not these branches of swimming willows
But your arm I truly touch so.
For all, who in torment your approach glory —
The earthly woman, a cross in the sky to me!
At night curtsies to you alone I bear,
And with your eyes from the walls the icons stare!
[edit] 11. You'll overtake the Sun in the sky…
You'll overtake the Sun in the sky,
In your hand all the stars!
Ah, if — only to enter you
Like a wind — door ajar!
And to tremble, and burst out,
And sharply to dull the sight,
And, like a forgiven child,
To sob and to go quiet.
[edit] 12. I have been given arms — to each one to stretch both…
I have been given arms — to each one to stretch both,
Not to hold tight not with one, lips — to give names,
Eyes — not to see, the high eyebrows above them —
To tenderly marvel at love, and more still at not love.
And this the bell there, heavier than the Kremlin's,
Ceaselessly walking and walking around in the chest —
This — who knows? — I don't know — maybe — it must be —
I will not become a guest on the Russian soil!
[edit] I'll conquer you from all lands, from all the sky…
x x x
I'll conquer you from all lands, from all the sky,
Because forest is my cradle and in the forest I'll die,
For I stand on the ground with just one of my legs,
For I will sing to you like no one else.
I'll conquer you from all times, I will fight
All golden banners, all swords and all nights,
I will chase away dogs from a porch and I'll throw the key
For in winter night not even dogs are more loyal than me.
I'll conquer you from all others — from that one
I will be no one's wife, you — no one's groom,
And in the last argument I will take you — be quiet! —
From the one with which Jacob stood in the night.
But for now I won't on your chest the fingers cross —
With you, you remain — O the curse! —
Your two wings, that at the ether take aim —
Because the world is your cradle, and world your grave.
[edit] To you, my rival, I will come sometime…
x x x
To you, my rival, I will come sometime
At night when moon is standing overhead
When frogs are wailing loudly on the pond
And women are from pity going mad.
And, marveling at the beating of the eyelids
And on your jealous eyelashes, it seems,
I'll tell you that I'm not a human being
But just a vision which you only dream.
And I will say: "Console me, console,
Someone is beating nails into my heart!"
And I will say to you that wind is fresh
And that the stars over our heads are hot.
[edit] To Jews
Who did not stomp on you — who did not melt you —
O merchant of the non-flammable roses!
One thing unshakable on this planet
Did allow behind him Jesus:
Israel! Your second kingdom's coming:
For all the money, if they only knew,
You paid with all your blood - you are the heroes,
The traitors, prophets, and the traders too.
In each of you — Even in him that counts
His gold before a candle in the dark —
The voice of Jesus resonates more loudly
Than in John, Matthew, Luke and Mark.
Around the earth — from ocean to ocean —
Crucifixion and from the cross taking down —
We'll give Jesus Christ a true burial,
Israel, with the last one of your sons!
[edit] You, measuring me by days
x x x
You, measuring me by days,
With, hot and homeless, me,
Wandered under the giant moon
Upon the squares heated strongly?
And in the tavern filled with plague,
When solemn waltz a sound did make,
Did you not in a drunken fist
My piercing fingers verily break?
With which voice in my sleep do I
Whisper — you heard? — O smoke and ash! —
What can you know of me, since you
With me did not sleep or get trashed?
[edit] August — asters…
x x x
August — asters,
August — stars,
August — bunches
Of grapes and ashberry
Rusty — August!
Like a child, August
You play with your apple
Good-natured and full of weight.
Like with hand, with your imperial
Name you do caress the heart:
August! — Heart!
Month of late kisses,
Of late roses and late lightning!
Of the rain beneath the stars
August! — Month
Of the rain beneath the stars!
[edit] Don Juan
[edit] 1. Under the sixth birch…
Under the sixth birch
At the corner church
On the frosty dawn
Wait, Don Juan!
But with groom, alas,
And my life I swear,
There is nowhere
In my land to kiss!
We don't have a fountain,
And the well did freeze,
Strict, severe eyes
Does Madonna have.
And so that the beauties
Trifles would not hear
We have loud and clear
Ringing of the bell.
Here I would have lived,
But — I will grow old,
You don't like my world
O the handsome one.
Ah, in a bear coat
It's hard to recognize you,
If not for your lips too,
O Don Juan!
[edit] 2. Long upon the foggy dawn…
Long upon the foggy dawn
The snowstorm did weep.
In a bed of snow they lay
Don Juan to sleep.
No hot stars above his head,
Not a roaring fountain..
Othodox cross is on the chest
Of our Don Juan.
I have brought a Sevillian
Fan, black, so that night
That's eternal, for yourself
Would become more light.
That you'd see a woman's beauty
With your own sight,
I will bring without a doubt
A heart to you tonight.
And for now — from distant lands —
Sleep now, sleep in peace! —
You have come to me. Complete,
Don Juan, is your list.
[edit] 3. Aren't you tired, after so many roses…
Aren't you tired, after so many roses,
Cities and toasts
To love me? You're almost a skeleton,
I'm almost a ghost.
And why should I know, that you had to call
On a higher power?
And why should I know, that there was smell of Nile
In my hair?
No, I better tell you a tale:
January it was.
A monk with a mask carried a flashlight.
Someone threw a rose.
Someone's drunken voice at cathedral walls
Prayed and swore.
Don Juan of Castille met Carmen
At this hour.
[edit] 4. Exactly — midnight…
Exactly — midnight.
Moon — like a hawk.
"Why — do you peer?"
"Thus — I peer!"
"Do you like me?" "No."
"Do you recognize me?" "Maybe."
"I am Don Juan."
"And I am Carmen."
[edit] 5. And this Don Juan had Donna Anna…
And this Don Juan had Donna Anna,
And this Don Juan possessed a sword.
Of the beautiful, unhappy Don Juan
This from people is the only word.
But I was a clever one today:
I at midnight stepped on roadside,
Someone went along with me in stride
Calling names.
And in fog the staff paled, a strange one..
There was no Donna Anna for Don Juan!
[edit] 6. And the silk sash is falling…
And the silk sash is falling
To his feet — a snake heavenly..
And "someday, when she's underground,
You will calm down" they tell me.
I see my profile, old
And arrogant in brocade white.
And somewhere — guitars — guitars —
And youths in a cloak like the night.
And somebody under mask hiding:
"Recognize!" — "I don't know" — "Recognize!"
And the silk sash is falling
On a square round like paradise.
[edit] 7. And fanning in eyes of the coming…
And fanning in eyes of the coming
Sadness and sin,
You pass the city — brutally-black,
Heavenly-thin.
Covered with torment, like with fog,
Is your eye.
In loop — a rose, in all the pockets —
Words of love. Aye!
I hear your call over the restaurant
Violin.
I send a smile to you from the distance,
Robber king!
And then I recognize that same look,
Spreading my wings,
With which in Castille at me stared
Your older sibling.
[edit] Above the church there are blue clouds…
x x x
Above the church there are blue clouds,
A crows' cry...
And pass — the color of ash and sand —
Revolutionary troops... oh my
Blue-blooded, my kingly angst!
They don't have a face, don't have a name —
Nobody sings!
You got lost, the Kremlin ringing
In this banner forest full of wind.
Lie, Moscow, onto eternal sleep, and pray!
[edit] To Tsar, on Easter
Open, Open,
The gates of the tsar!
Darkness dimmed and poured out far.
With clean heat
Burns the altar —
Resurrect, Christ,
Yesterday's tsar!
Without glory fell
Two-headed eagle.
Tsar — you were wrong.
He'll remember inheritance
Many more times —
Byzantine sacrilege
Of your clear eyes.
Your judges —
Lightning and wave!
Tsar! God sought
You, not men.
But now there's Easter
In all the land,
Sleep in your village
With a calm mind,
Don't dream of
The banners red.
Tsar! Descendants
And ancestors — sleep.
There is a knapsack since
A throne you won't keep.
[edit] Stepan Razin
[edit] 1. Winds have gone to sleep — with golden dawn…
Winds have gone to sleep — with golden dawn,
Night comes — with a mountain of stone,
And with his princess from hot land
Rests the rabid chieftain.
Having gathered his youthful shoulders in a sack
He listened, his forehead leaning back,
How over his hot tent it thunders —
Nightingale's thunder.
[edit] 2. Over Volga — night…
Over Volga — night,
Over Volga — sleep...
Ornate rugs they have laid down,
And on them the chieftain has laid
With a Persian princess — black brows.
One can't see the stars, one can't hear the waves,
Oars and darkness extreme, this is all!
And the shuttle bears away into the chieftain's
Night sinful Persian soul.
And such a speech
Did the night hear:
Don't you want, at last,
To lie nearer?
Out of all our women
You're the pearl!
Am I this scary
I'm your all-time slave,
Persian girl!
My prisoner!
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
And she knitted the brows,
The long brows.
And she eyes cast down
Eyes Persian.
And from her lips
Only one sigh rings:
Djal-Eddin.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
And over Volga — a ruddy dawn,
And over Volga — heaven.
And the drunk crowd roars:
Get up, chieftain!
With a Muslim dog you did lie!
See the tears in the beauty's eyes!
And she — like death,
Bit her mouth in blood.
Thus goes a chieftain's brow so hard.
This our bed, you dog, you did not want,
So make do with our baptismal font!
It's dark in the day,
In the sky it is clear.
Red is the shoe
In the ship's rear.
And like menacing oak stands Stepan,
And to very lips pales Stepan.
Ah, so tiring — it shakes, rocks!
Hold up, heathens — in the eyes it's dark!
Here to you is the Persian girl,
The prisoner girl.
[edit] 3. And Razin dreams a dream…
(DREAM OF RAZIN)
And Razin dreams a dream:
Like a cry of a heron of the swamp.
And Razin dreams a ringing:
Like silver droplets drop.
And Razin dreams of the bottom:
With flowers, like a kerchief, covered.
And he dreams of one face —
Forgotten, with black brows.
He sits, like God's mother,
Stringing pearls on a thread.
And he wants to tell her,
But only moves lips instead...
The breath has been stifled - ah
In the chest there is a glass chip.
And the glass slope walks past them
Like a guard who wants to sleep.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Down the Volga-river with
The steering dawn drove he.
Over just a single shoe
Why did you leave me?
Who will want a beauty
In just one shoe?
For the other shoe, friend,
I will come to you!
And rings, rings the bracelet: Drowned
The happiness of Stepan!
[edit] From a strict and elegant temple…
x x x
From a strict and elegant temple
On the squealing of squares you alight.
Freedom! The beautiful lady
Of marquises and Russian knights.
A dreadful rehearsal is on now —
Still ahead is the mass!
O freedom! The partying woman
On the mad soldier's chest!
[edit] Bitterness! On your lips, passion…
x x x
Bitterness! On your lips, passion —
Is eternal aftertaste!
Bitterness! It is temptation
For all times — to die at last.
I from bitterness — am kissing
Everyone who's young and sweet.
You from bitterness — another
By the hand at night do lead.
With bread I eat, with water swallow
Bitter woe, bitter sorrow.
There is one such kind of grass,
Mother Russia, on your meadows.
[edit] Carmen
[edit] 1. Divine, childish-plain…
Divine, childish-plain
The dress is, and short to the plait.
How the sides of a pyramid
Rush sides from the belt.
What big rings there are
On the fingers little and dark!
What big buckles there are
On the tiny shoes!
And people eat and argue,
And people are playing cards.
You do not know, players,
What you have bet on the card!
And she — she needs nothing!
And she — she needs nothing!
Here's my chest. Tear my heart out —
Carmen — and drink my blood!
[edit] 2. She stands, throwing back the throat…
She stands, throwing back the throat,
And bit the mouth in blood.
And set the hand against bosom —
The left one — where there is love.
"On your knees!" — "What to you
Are my knees that I should bend,
Abbot?" With these words
Her last night Carmen did end.
[edit] Gypsy Wedding
Dirt flies
From under the hooves.
Shawl like a shield
Over the face.
Newlyweds, have fun
Without the young!
Eh, carry them out,
Disheveled stallion!
We didn't have freedom
Under mother and dad,
The whole field for us
Is marital bed!
Full without bread and without wine drunk —
Thus the gypsy wedding does run!
Full is the glass.
Empty is the glass.
Guitar sound, dirt and moon.
To right and to left swings the den.
Gypsy — to knight!
To gypsy — knight!
Hey mister, careful — it burns!
Thus drinks gypsy wedding!
There, on the shawls'
And fur-coats' heap
There's ringing and rustling
Of steel and lips.
Ringing of spurs,
Necklaces — in return.
Silk has whistled
Under someone's hand.
Someone has howled like a wolf,
Someone like a bull is snoring.
Thus sleeps the gypsy wedding.
[edit] The first day I recall, ferocity of childhood…
x x x
The first day I recall, ferocity of childhood,
Exhaustion and the darkness of the gulp divine,
The carelessness of arms, the heartlessness of heart,
That fell onto the chest, like hawk, like stone.
And now — this time — trembling from heat and pity,
One: to howl like wolf, one: to the feet to fall,
To cast down - understand - penalty for sensuality
Is cruel love and passion terrible.
[edit] Night. North-East. The soldiers cry. Waves roar…
x x x
Night. North-East. The soldiers cry. Waves roar.
They bombed a wine warehouse. Along the walls,
Through ditches, runs a precious torrent
And in it dances bloody moon.
The trunks of the poplars are mad.
Mad also in the night, birds sing.
Empty, yesterday's monument to the tsar,
And over the tsar's monument — the night.
The harbor drinks, the barracks drink. The world is ours!
Ours is the wine in cellars of the knights!
The whole city, stomping just like bulls,
Falling to murky puddle on the road — drinks.
In cloud of wine — there is the moon. Who's here?
You beauty, be a comrade, drink!
And in the city there's a happy rumour,
That somewhere two have drowned in the wine.
[edit] Strong and wealthy have a hard time…
x x x
Strong and wealthy have a hard time,
It is hard to all the lords.
I won't lower the light eyes
A red soldier before.
City's moaning and carousing,
Moon in cloud made of wine.
Not a living soul will touch me:
Poor and arrogant am I.
[edit] Kornilov
A Cossack, a Cossack's son...
Thus the speech has begun.
Homeland. Darkness. Foe.
Everyone's heads fall down.
Sound alarm, priests.
"There's no food." "Good."
Not a day should be lost!
A soldier must
Clean the horse...
[edit] To Moscow
[edit] 1. You did not bend the shoulders, when the red-haired…
You did not bend the shoulders, when the red-haired
Impostor seized you and for you did reach.
Where is your pride, you baroness? Your blush,
You beauty? Brilliant girl, your speech?
Like Tsar Peter, the law of sons despising,
Did lust with avarice after your head —
You answered to the Tsar of Russia truly
As baroness Morozova on the sled.
The fiery drink was not at all forgotten
By lips of Bonapart that were so cold.
The sides of Kremlin all things will endure.
In your cathedral not the first time stands a stall.
[edit] 2. The thief Grishka did not make you Polish …
The thief Grishka did not make you Polish,
The Tsar Peter did not make you German.
"What're you doing, little dove?" "I'm crying."
"Where, Moscow, is your pride?" "It's gone."
"Where are all your doves?" "There is no feed."
"Who bore him away?" "The raven black."
"Where are all your holy crosses?" "Torn down."
"Where are your sons, Moscow?" "Killed."
[edit] 3. Liquid ringing, meager ringing…
Liquid ringing, meager ringing.
To all sides I'm curtsying.
Cry of infant, cow's roar.
The tsar's daring word.
Lashes' whistling, snow full of blood.
The dark word of Love.
The pigeons' quiet noise.
The Shooter's black eyes.
[edit] In vain, Cavalier de Grie…
x x x
In vain, Cavalier de Grie,
Do you dream of the full of beauty,
Autocratic — her self not ruling —
Your voluptuous Manon.
From your rooms we are succeeding
In a flock tired and willing.
They recall us not past the evening.
Be obedient — such is the law.
We are coming in from night stormy,
We really need nothing from you,
Except supper — and pearls we need from you
And maybe one more thing — your soul!
Honor and duty, Cavalier — convention it is.
Let God give you a regiment of mistresses!
Showing a readiness in all this.
Passionately loving you
— M.
[edit] Links — Ссылки
© Ilya Shambat, Translation. Can be reproduced if non-commercial.
