Freedom—a drunken whore
Sprawling in a power maddened soldier’s arms.
for the path of comets/ is the path of poets: they burn without warming,/ pick without cultivating. They are: an explosion, a breaking in
Marina TsvetaevaI have two foes in the world, twins inextricably interrelated -- the hunger of the hungry and the glut of the glutted!
Marina TsvetaevaIo posso amare solo la persona che in una giornata di primavera a me preferirà una betulla.
Marina TsvetaevaWho sleeps at night? No one is sleeping.
In the cradle a child is screaming.
An old man sits over his death, and anyone
young enough talks to his love, breathes
into her lips, looks into her eyes.
Tags: insomnia
Tonight - I am alone in the night,
a homeless and sleepless nun!
Tonight I hold all the keys to this
the only capital city
and lack of sleep guides me on my path.
You are so lovely, my dusky Kremlin!
Tonight I put my lips to the breast
of the whole round and warring earth.
Now I feel hair - like fur - standing on end:
the stifling winds blow straight into my soul.
Tonight I feel compassion for everyone,
those who are pitied, along with those who are kissed.
Tags: insomnia
After a sleepless night the body gets weaker,
It becomes dear and not yours - and nobody's.
Just like a seraph you smile to people
And arrows moan in the slow arteries.
After a sleepless night the arms get weaker
And deeply equal to you are the friend and foe.
Smells like Florence in the frost, and in each
Sudden sound is the whole rainbow.
Tenderly light the lips, and the shadow's golden
Near the sunken eyes. Here the night has sparked
This brilliant likeness - and from the dark night
Only just one thing - the eyes - are growing dark.
Tags: insomnia
Wings are freedom only when they are wide open in flight. On one's back they are a heavy weight.
Marina TsvetaevaMeanings are translatable. Words are untranslatable… More briefly – a word is translatable, its sound is not.
Marina TsvetaevaTags: wisdom aphorisms russian-poetry tsvetaeva
How quiet the writing, how noisy the printing.
Marina TsvetaevaTags: wisdom aphorisms russian-poetry tsvetaeva
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