When I let go of your hand many moons ago, deep down, I knew I would never hold it again. I still see your ghost, now and then, hovering over the cliffs and mingling with the mist between the mountains… At sunset, your shadow haunts the valley where we used to dream. We made up stories; we gathered berries and laughed; we conjured up entire lives, intertwining our thoughts like grapevines and drinking their mellow nectar until we were intoxicated with passion.
Azure hills near Moscow linger,
Tar and dust — in the lukewarm air.
I sleep all day, all day I laugh — let's say
I am recovering from winter.
I am walking home in utter silence:
For unwritten poems — no remorse!
I prefer, to every single verse,
The rattling wheels, the smell of fried almonds.
When the mind is beautifully empty,
Always blame the heart — it is too full!
As though little waves, my days unfurl;
From the bridge, I watch them fall aplenty.
Someone's gazes are too soft and tender
In the tenderness of lightly heated air...
I am falling under summer's spell,
Barely recovered from winter.
(March 13, 1915)
Midnight—over the coffee grounds
She cries, looking toward the East.
Her mouth is innocent and unbound,
Half—a flower, and half—a beast.
Soon a crescent—young and slender—
Shall replace the scarlet dawn
All my combs I will surrender,
All my rings - to you alone!
Waxing moon between the branches
Did not shelter anyone.
I will give you all my bracelets,
All my chains - to you alone!
As though under a heavy mane
Your luminous pupils shine!
Are your comrades jealous in vain? -
The full-blooded horses stay light!
(December 6, 1914)