1


Blessed are the ones that left your daughters, Earth,
To fight in wartime battle and to run,
Blessed are the ones that having never tried
Comfort went to the fields Elysian.

Thus grows the laurel - writer of the years,
Heater of battle, sober, with harsh leaves.
I will never exchange for bitter fate of love
The friendship's over-the-clouds cliffs.

2


Already gods' - not the same generosity,
Upon the river's shore, not the same one.
Fly, fly again, the doves of Aphrodite
Into wide open gates of setting sun.

I'll leave in day, in which there is no count,
Lying upon the sand that's growing cold...
I've outgrown my youth and look upon it
Like snake that's looking at his skin of old.

3


In vain, inside the promised branches hiding,
Your tender retinue thunders above.
I drop a myrtle that did love so many,
I drop the belt that did so sweetness love.

With a dumb arrow that is heavily piercing
Freed me from these my shackles your own son.
Thus at the very throne of my calmness
You born of foam, as a foam be gone!

4


How many, how many of them, white and blue
Eat from the hands!
Whole kingdoms are clucking around your lips
O Lowliness!

In gold of cup the deadly sweat
Does not translate.
The mantle-wearing general will vanish
Like dove of white.

Every cloud like a chest circles
In a bad hour.
There is your visage, O she-devil, in
Each perfect flower.

You fleeting foam, the salt of the sea..
In torment and foam -
For what reason should I obey
You, armless stone?

By Marina Tsvetayeva
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)