"Marina Tsvetaeva. The Best (translated by Ilya Shambat) (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

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!"