The spring day passed without purposeAt the dirty and dark window:Behind the wall was singing, boresome,My wife - bird in captivity.Without haste I brought togetherMy reminiscences, my works;And all became perfectly clear:L...

What an exciting picture!Your's, oh my north, that's your's!All day the barren plain before me,As empty, as my dreams and thoughts!Here's my spirit, evil, resolute,Disturbs the silence with its laugh;On answering, the raven bla...

Morningby Robert Rozhdestvensky to Vladimir SokolovThere exists a border between night and morning,between a darkand an unsteady dawn,between an illusive silenceand a wise wind...Here it is shivering the aspen...

The clocksby Robert Rozhdestvensky- The clocks are going...- Is that unusual discovery?-That is the sign of their right work...If you had bought them- carry... - I'm not about that!Look at the street:there on the mo...

You are going to west, where's a sun,You will see there the evening light,You are going to the west, where sun,And a blizzard is hiding your site.By my windows - and without passion -You will pass in the silence of snow,The god...

With great tenderness - because ofI'm going to leave you all -I'm thinking a lot, who will bethe heir of the wolf's fur,Who will take - the cosy fluffy plead,And a thin stick with a dog,Who - my silver bindle, all strewedwi...

In haze, and more blue than a labdanum,Like a silver - are the panels.Towards my face - suddenlyThere is flying a feather.And looks are cris-crossed, and quavered Your voice - what you asking for now? -As a bohemia glass had a...

In the linden garden, great and vast,And innocent, and old,I'm walking with a mandolin in the gown,So beautiful and so long,Breathing the freshness of the open airAnd a smell of raspberries, which are ripened 'round,And holding...

By Marina TsvetaevaInsanity - and wisdom, prudence,Ignominy - and honour,All, that is worth to have conclusion,All, that exists and moreInside me. - All the penal passionsTogether joined! -As in my hair all the colours...

To generals of 12th yearby Marina TsvetaevaYou, whose broad overcoatsWere like the sails,Whose spurs were ringing joylyWith voices' squall.And whose eyes were like brilliants,Touching the hearts, -The charming d...