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@MSGID:
<1da75364-a169-48b0-999f-5f9d7b50fc23n@googlegroups.com> 5d090f50
@REPLYADDR Ilya Shambat <ibshambat@gmail.com>
@REPLYTO 2:5075/128 Ilya Shambat
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<1da75364-a169-48b0-999f-5f9d7b50fc23n@googlegroups.com>
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@TID: FIDOGATE-5.12-ge4e8b94
Insanity - and good reason,
Disgrace - and honor,
All, that brings on thoughtfulness,
Is spilling over -
In me. - All the penal passions
Become as one! -
All images wage war inside
This hair of mine!
The lover`s whisper, all around
By rote I know,
Experience of twenty two years
Nothing but sorrow!
But - won`t you say - innocently pink
Look I,
I`m virtuoso`s virtuoso
In art of lies.
In her let out like a ball,
Caught once again,
The blood of Polish great-grandmoms
Is evident.
I lie because in cemeteries
The grass does grow,
I lie because in cemeteries
Snowstorm does blow...
From violin - from automobile -
From silk, from fire...
From torment that not only me
They all desired!
From pain, that I am not the bride
Of the groom...
From poem and gesture - for the gesture
And for the poem!
From tender boa on the neck...
And how can I
Not lie - when my voice sounds more tender
When I do lie...
By Marina Tsvetayeva
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
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