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"I do not love you anymore. Nothing happened - there was a life ... "
October 1918. A letter from Marina Tsvetaeva Nicodemus Plutser-Sarna:
I am writing this letter to you with pleasure, does not reach, however, to lust, for lust - madness, and I - quite sober.
I do not love you anymore.
Nothing happened - life happened. I do not think any of you in the morning, waking up, or at night, falling asleep, or on the street, no music - never.
If you fell in love with another woman, I would have smiled - with arrogant emotion - and thought - curiously - about you and her.
I - came out of the game.
- All that I feel for you - a slight thrill of votes and the total creative excitement, as always in the presence of mind of the partner.
Your face I still like it.
- Why do I not love you anymore? Knowing me, you do not wait, "I do not know».
Two years in a row I - mentally - in his heart - dragged you along all the roads, halls, churches, the cars, I did not leave you for a second, in hours, waiting for a call, lay like dead, if the call was not anything like everyone else, and yet not all all.
I see your dark face on a glass coffee - the coffee and tobacco smoke - you were like velvet, I'm talking about the voice - and as steel - talking about the words - I admired you, I loved you very much.
One comparison - bizarre but true: You have been for me the beating of drums, rises to his feet at midnight all the boys of the city.
- You first have ceased to love me. If this had not happened, I would still love you, because I like always to the very last possibility.
First you come in 4 hours and then 5 h., Then at 6 h., Then in the eighth, then completely stopped.
You have not stopped loving me (as cut). You just have ceased to love me every minute of his life, and I did the same, listen to you, as always.
You first have forgotten who I am.
I write to you without bitterness - and without pleasure. You without bitterness - and without pleasure, you are still the best expert in me than anyone, I'm just telling you how connoisseurs and lovers - and I think you're out of habit praised me for the accuracy of feeling and transmission. < br />
Author: Marina Tsvetaeva
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