The constellations'retwinkling in the heaven,And hands, as if theirself,are stretching to the fire...And I'm feared, that after the awakening,The people are not charmedwith new day's light.Nor they do feel existence in real...

I stopped the smiling, a frosty windIs freezing all my lips this time.One hope's lesser. One song - seemsTo be once more. I know the rhyme.And this song unintentionally I'll giveFor further laugh and profanation.Because it's so pai...

С горы стремился ручеек(пел бард давным-давно),Ступить на золотой песокНогой, обутой в серебро.В соленом океане мерноКачалась дикая волна.Дойдя до берега - так скверноРычала, билась пеною она.Но ручеек нашел волну -...

What force attracts us to each other?Sometimes it's so unintelligible:It won't be grudge of tendeness or parting,All will be in the life, indeed.It plays with us as if with mere toys,Will cause a quarrel, or a piece next moment,...

Say, that I'm guilty of neglecting of my debtFor all the good, you'd done for me before,That I forgot your your cherished theshold andDenied, though I'm tied to bonds,That I was not appreciating you for time,And gave the hours to o...

It's february. To get an ink - and cry!To write about february through tears,While rumbling slush is going firedIn season of the spring.To get a coach. For six grivnas,Through Annunciation, through wheel's squealTo move to plac...

The softer than the softYour face,The whiter than the whiteYour hand.You are so far from the wholeWorld,All, that you have - fromThe unavoidable.From the unavoidable is going Your sorrow,And fingers on your hands,...

A booksellerBut glory was for You a substitutionOf pleasure of Your secret dreams:You were sold out quickly, truly,But a huge mass of authors keep The dusty piles of their poems and proze On bookshelves, seeking for a reader,...

A Prayerby Marina TsvetaevaOh Chryst and God! I wait for miracleToday at morning, and right now!Oh, give me death, before I'm readingMy life as book, just for me opened!You are wise. You shan't say to me strictly:"...

To Byronby Marina TsvetaevaI'm thinking about morning of Your glory,About morning of your days,When suddenly You as demon had awokenFrom dream, as god to every men.I'm thinking about brows on Your face,Met together, as...