Marina Tsvetaeva, 'Insomnia 3'
Monday, March 12, 2007 1:03:17 PM
It becomes dear and not yours - and nobody's.
Just like a seraph you smile to people
And arrows moan in the slow arteries.
After a sleepless night the arms get weaker
And deeply equal to you are the friend and foe.
Smells like Florence in the frost, and in each
Sudden sound is the whole rainbow.
Tenderly light the lips, and the shadow's golden
Near the sunken eyes. Here the night has sparked
This brilliant likeness - and from the dark night
Only just one thing - the eyes - are growing dark.
- Marina Tsvetaeva, 'Insomnia', from: Psyche (1923), translation Ilya Shambat.








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