Meanings are translatable. Words are untranslatable… More briefly – a word is translatable, its sound is not.
Marina TsvetaevaTag: wisdom aphorisms russian-poetry tsvetaeva
How quiet the writing, how noisy the printing.
Marina TsvetaevaTag: wisdom aphorisms russian-poetry tsvetaeva
Not sorry, not calling, not crying
All will pass like smoke of white apple trees
Seized by the gold of autumn,
I will no longer be young.
Tag: sorrow calling life-changing russian-poetry
But then he touched the flowers
With the dry tips of his fingers.
"Tell me how men kiss you.
Tell me how you kiss.
Tag: the-visitor russian-poetry the-guest
If you prefer,
I'll be pure raging meat,
or if you prefer,
as the sky changes tone,
I'll be absolutely tender,
not a man, but a cloud in trousers!
Tag: russian-poetry a-cloud-in-trousers
Here's how I used to think
you made a book:
a poet comes along,
mouth half open, inspired,
then suddenly the idiot bursts into song -
fancy that!
Tag: russian-poetry a-cloud-in-trousers
I hope for a light grief in old age.
I was born in Rome and it has returned to me.
My autumn was a kind of she-wolf,
And August - the month of Caesars - smiled at me.
Tag: russian-poetry
A chestnut-haired child
Cheering up, went
and stood in his stall.
And took the whole incident
like a young colt -
and to live seemed worthwhile,
and to labor,
worthy.
Tag: russian-poetry a-good-attitude-to-horses
We don't know how to say goodbye,
We wander on, shoulder to shoulder
Already the sun is going down
You're moody, and I am your shadow.
Let's step inside a church, hear prayers, masses for the dead
Why are we so different from the rest?
Outside in the graveyard we sit on a frozen branch.
That stick in your hand is tracing
Mansions in the snow in which we will always be together.
Tag: poetry poem russian-poetry
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