My Translation: *** Her neck is lifted—young and free, Like spring in reverie. Who knows her name—who knows her age, Who—home, who—century? There is no light on these curved lips— Capricious and gentle— Yet I am blinded and eclipsed By her Beethoven's temple. It makes me tender—clear and lit, Her face, a melted oval, Her hand, in which a whip would fit, And—in the silver—opal. A violin bow could serve her hand, But into silks it went, How unrepeatable—this hand, Unique, beloved hand. (January 10, 1915)Continue reading “My Translation of Marina Tsvetaeva’s Cycle “Girlfriend” – Part 7”
Ode to Saint Petersburg
Saint Petersburg - the city of the Dead, Where dreaming spirits haunt the mist-cloaked streets. A diadem of rubies crowns your head, And silver armour lines your mighty fleet. Let myriads of angels guard your spires Against the pain and suffering of war: Rejoice, the bygone northernmost empire, Built on deception, cruelty, and gore! The Winter Palace flaunts its azure gown - A ballerina on the frozen lake, Whose beauty flares, as if about to drown Beneath the burden of her last mistake. May a luxuriant, wild garden grow Where once was land of misery and snow.
A reading of my poem “The Storm”
It's Sunset. All the sea is covered by a lunar mist, Although the distant land seems near. The clouds thicken, as the salty dunes embrace and twist - Caressingly, away they steer. Let the audacious wind disturb the airy sail: We have no fear of storms and saints, Between the hidden rocks manoeuvring without fail, Forgetting our old complaints. The thunder rumbles ruthlessly and sways the sturdy deck - A portent of misfortune grim. The lightning's arrow left an incandescent track: Don't take this darkness for a dream! Encompassed by the icebound gloom and shreds of silver foam, Which soars to the stars, like smoke, We enter murky caves - where myriads of luring sirens roam: Beware of their mellifluous talk! Alas, the only beacon of a fragile hope had sunk, These waters will be our demise! The wild forget-me-nots entwine my burning lungs: "In time, life sheds its thin disguise." The Night. With their amber eyes, the fervent harpies gaze, Awaiting the horrendous end. Hold on! Amidst the chaos, we'll mount the towering waves: Embracing firmly, hand in hand. Above the broken mast, a thunderbird is cawing briskly: "Take off! It's time to spread your wings!" Our life has flashed before our eyes, the moments - meagre, beastly - How evanescently they gleam! Look, now the brutal current swirls, deluging our vessel: The helm is captured by the tide! Don't cry, my dear, you're not alone, for we are still together - Love will eclipse the ninth wave's height. Although the rampant ocean unfurled its grim abyss, We won't disperse without a trace: The wreckage of our troubled souls the water shall release Into the long-forgotten bays. Transfigured by the tempest's rage, we swim to terra firma, Untarnished by the years forlorn. As though the sleeping wanderers, awakened by a murmur, Our eyes behold the sun. It's Dawn!
A reading of my poem “The Night”
Dear readers, I hope you will enjoy this multimedia presentation of my literary work! The video features a recording of my poem, accompanied by picturesque views of Canadian nature and urban life, which I captured throughout my studies in this beautiful country.
The Waterfall of Memories
Your whisper haunts me through the night and in the light of day - The waterfall of memories devours its breathless prey. Beware! The languid turquoise guise seems utterly serene, Yet thousands fell to their demise in this alluring stream. Mnemosyne, a patron saint of the undying past, Bathe me in your sweet revelry and turn my soul to dust! If it were now to die - I would - for nothing will exceed The water's luscious lullaby - intoxicating, deep… A single thought is all it takes to silently succumb: When a forgotten love awakes, the consciousness goes numb. You are the gravity, which tempts, desiring my downfall - Although the sombre heart repents, it answers your wild call. I have become the waterfall, my tenderness cascades Upon your lips - the memory of passion never fades!
The Azure Acrostic
My dreams feel like drowning - Your absence still haunts me... Dive deeper, my darling! Enchanted, yet free, All heavenly angels Remember their lovers Emerging, like ambers, Mesmerized by the sea, My tears catch fire - Are you thinking of me?
The Sweetness of Being Apart
When birds depart from native shores, Too many fly astray: This forlorn life the soul abhors - My love was swept away! Across the oceans - raging, deep, I send a warm embrace: The longing - harsh and bittersweet - Sets parted hearts ablaze! Soar higher, soft-voiced nightingale - Your songs light up the night: Pure sorrow carried by the gale Transcends a swift delight! The separation draws us near, And turns into fine art: There is a certain sweetness, dear, In being far apart!
A Cosmic Villanelle
I would give my last breath to be with you - We can't find solace in a wistful dream: No pain is greater than a brief adieu! Amidst the galaxy's celestial view, By night and day, my earthly fears grow thin: I would give my last breath to be with you. The sorrowful farewell hits me anew: Your trembling hands, eyes - desperate and grim - No pain is greater than a brief adieu! This ruthless anguish I cannot subdue: Your spirit comes to me - sublime, yet dim. I would give my last breath to be with you… Alas, the woeful memories pierce through My heart, immured by the eternal stream: No pain is greater than a brief adieu! Beloved, let the stars reveal my clue About the cosmic places - vast, unseen: I would give my last breath to be with you - No pain is greater than a brief adieu!
My Translation of Marina Tsvetaeva’s Cycle “Girlfriend” – Part 4
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