Волны укроют меня поцелуями,
Бархатом синим прижмутся к губам.
Стиснут запястья мне пальцами-струями,
Пеной пьянящей стекут по щекам. 

Тело моё увенчает сиянием
Тейя, богиня безмолвных ночей. 
Скованы веки холодным признанием, 
Призраком прежних моих палачей. 

Лёгкие стали пустыней измученной,
Жадно вдыхаю - и пламя дрожит,
Вьётся потоком и алыми тучами,
В сердце мучительно нежно горит. 

Так две стихии во мне, две истории
Переплетаются, словно венки. 
Листья лавровые - иглы терновые,
Жажда падения - страх высоты. 

“Vita & Virginia” (2018) ★★★★★

“Vita and Virginia” is a captivating biographical drama by a British director, Chanya Button. This film portrays the intricate relationship between two literary icons of the twentieth century, Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West, played by Elizabeth Debicki and Gemma Arterton.

Continue reading ““Vita & Virginia” (2018) ★★★★★”

My Translation of Marina Tsvetaeva’s Cycle “Girlfriend” – Part 4

Illustration: Devotion: the Two Girlfriends, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1895
You were too lazy to get dressed,
Too lazy to rise from the armchair.
- Although Your next day could be blessed
With my pure gaiety and laughter.

You were embarrassed most of all
To walk at night amid the snowfall.
- Although Your hours could be bold
With my excitement - jolly, youthful.

My darling, You have meant no harm,
So irreversibly benign.
- You were all innocence and charm,
I was the youth that passed You by.

October 25, 1914

Click to see the original poem

My Translation of Marina Tsvetaeva’s Cycle “Girlfriend” – Part 3

Illustration: “The Window Seat” by Robert Burns, 1905-1906.
Picture Editing: Pascale Clerie
I’ve spent all day beside the window,
The snow was melting everywhere.
My mind was sober, bosom - tender,
Again I live without care.

I don’t know why. It must be languor,
The mere exhaustion of the soul,
I simply couldn’t bear to handle
My pencil - riotous and bold.

And so I stood - the foggy valance -
Concealed both evil and caress,
My finger gently broke the silence
By tapping on the fragile glass.

My spirit’s neither worse, nor better
Than any stranger - whom I’ve met, -
Than puddles of pearlescent glitter,
The mirrored sky above my head,

Than bird in flight, so free and dauntless,
Than racing dog with fluffy ears,
And even the impoverished songstress
No longer can bring me to tears.

The charming art of sweet oblivion
I’ve memorized from the start.
Today a feeling worth a million
Was slowly melting in my heart.

October 24, 1914

Click to see the original poem