"Passerby, stop!": unforgettable brilliant poem Tsvetaeva

Exactly 75 years ago, on the last day of the summer of 1941, passed away the great Russian poet Marina Tsvetaeva. In her poetry — the unquenchable fire of the human soul, the magic of love and immortal truths. That is why the poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva, and today remain relevant and loved.



Livejournal.comWebsite shares with the reader one of the most poignant poems of the great Tsvetaeva.

Go like me
Eyes pointing down.
I let them down too!
Passerby, stop!

Read of buttercups
Typing and poppies bouquet
That I was called Marina
And how old I was.

Don't think this is a grave,
I will appear, scary...
I myself loved too much
Laugh when you can not!

And blood flows to the skin,
And my hair was curly...
I, too, was a passer-by!
Passerby, stop!

Grab yourself a wild stem
And after it a berry, —
Cemetery strawberry
Larger and sweeter than there.

But just stay sullenly,
Head drooping on his chest.
Easy think about me,
Easily about me forget.

As you beam light!
You're covered in Golden dust...
— Never mind
My voice from under the ground.

Marina Tsvetaeva

via www.kulturologia.ru/blogs/310816/31147/