The Window (Marina Tsvetaeva Poems)
In the sweet, Atlantic Breathing of spring My curtain's like a butterfly, Huge, fluttering Like a Hindu widow To a ...
In the sweet, Atlantic Breathing of spring My curtain's like a butterfly, Huge, fluttering Like a Hindu widow To a ...
In the old Strauss waltz for the first time We had listened to your quiet call, Since then all the ...
Whence cometh such tender rapture? Those curls--they are not the first ones I've smoothened, and I've already Known lips--that were ...
"I will not part! -- There is no end!" She clings and clings... And in the breast -- the rise ...
These are ashes of treasures: Of hurt and loss. These are ashes in face of which Granite is dross. Dove, ...
Children - are staring of eyes so frightful, Mischievous legs on a wooden floor, Children - is sun in the ...
Much like me, you make your way forward, Walking with downturned eyes. Well, I too kept mine lowered. Passer-by, stop ...
The demon in me's not dead, He's living, and well. In the body as in a hold, In the self ...
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