Piercing Marina Tsvetaeva

«When love me - wonder, when you do not like - I am surprised, but most of all surprised when I was indifferent" .K personality of Marina Tsvetaeva and her work is really impossible to be indifferent. She pulled into their worlds, images, eternal love affair with his own soul. Each line of fire scorches her poems and then blows a hurricane.

***

I do not think, do not complain, do not argue.
I can not sleep.
Not rvus
neither the sun nor the moon, nor the sea,
Neither the ship.

Do not feel like these walls hot,
As the green in the garden.
It has long-awaited and desired gift
Do not wait.

Not happy either morning or tram
Singing running.
I live without seeing the day pozabyvaya
The number and age.

At seem notched rope
I - the little dancer.
I - a shadow of someone else's shadow. I - lunatic
Two dark moons.



***

I like that you are not sick of me,
I like that I'm not sick you,
What ever the heavy globe
Do not drift away under our feet.

I like that you can be funny,
Promiscuity - not playing with words,
And not blush suffocating wave,
Brush sleeves.

I like it that you are in my
Calmly hug another,
Not averse to me in hell fire
Burn for what I did not kiss you.

What's the name of my gentle, my gentle, not
Mention, day or night - in vain ...
That never in the church silence
They will sing over us: Hallelujah!

Thank you, and heart, and hand
Because you got me - not knowing it! - So you dislike for my night's rest,
For the rarity of seeing sunsets.

For our non-festivals under the moon,
For the sun is not above our heads,
For the fact that you are sick - alas! - Not me,
Because I'm sick - alas! - Not you!



***

Frivolity! - Sweet Sin,
Dear companion and the enemy, my dear!
You're in my eyes vbryznul laughter
mazurka and I vbryznul in veins.

Learn not to store ring - with whom my life would no crowned!
Starting at random at the end of
And ends before the start.

Be like the stem and be like steel
in life, where we can so little ...
- Chocolate treat sadness
And laugh in the face of passers-by!





***

I not loved, but crying. No, I did not like, but still
Only you pointed in the shade adorable face.
It was all in our sleep does not seem to love:
Neither the cause nor the evidence.

Only we the image of the evening the audience nodded,
But we - you and I - he brought the plaintive verse.
Adoration of the thread we strongly coupled,
The love - the other.

But the rush is over, and gently approached someone,
Who could not pray, but loved. Condemn not hurry!
You'll be remembered me as the most delicate note
The awakening of the soul.

In this sad soul you walked, in the unlocked house ...
(In our house, spring ...) has forgotten me, I do not call!
All minutes of its I filled thee, except
The most sad - love.



***

In my big city - night.
From the house I go to sleep - away
And people think, wife, daughter, -
And I remember one thing: the night.

July wind sweeps me - the way,
And somewhere in the music - a little.
Ah, now the wind before dawn - blowing
Through the thin walls of the chest - the chest.

There is a black poplar, and in the window - light,
And calls on the tower, and in his hand - the color,
And this one step - no one - after,
And this shadow here, and I - no.

Lights - like strands of gold beads,
Night leaf in the mouth - the taste.
Free from the bonds of day,
Friends, please understand that I will - snyus.



***

Gone - I do not eat:
Empty - bread taste.
All - chalk. For what
no pull.

... I was bread,
And the snow was.
And the snow is not white,
And the bread is not nice.



***

My poems, written so early,
What I did not know that I - a poet,
Derailed as a spray from a fountain,
Like sparks from rockets.

Bursting like little devils,
In the sanctuary, where sleep and incense,
My poems about youth and death,
Unreadable poems!

Scattered in the dust shopping,
Where no one would take and not take,
My poems, like precious wines,
Their turn will come.



lover of literature like:
Post adoration Mayakovsky
Scandalous genius

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