Translate to:
poet portal: Marina Tsvetaeva
read below: Tsar Maiden

Poem-tale

As a young snake – yes old yzh,
As a young wife – yes old husband,
muzzle pumpkin, the life pattern, breathes – tower trembles,
From the mustache something stale for a hundred miles District reeks.

How do stepmother in mladenkoy – son of the ceiling,
not razboynichek, not vsadnichek, not silach, no hands,
instead cheeks – one a hollow, lips tightly silent.
As in the palace after midnight palisadnichke harp jingle…
Povedesh aside in his eye –

He looks at the wall.
Let me sideways
D'nenarokom
Yes Zaden!

FIRST NIGHT

sleeps Prince, prostrated,
sleeps, not hear anything,
Exactly wand rested
A Month in the face of his.

Sovra, that stick:
finger light, finger.
And it is worth wench Chalayan
the boy.

“Secretive your eyelashes, –
Without fire burned!
Why am I not a virgin,
A strange woman!

For some reason people sleep,
And my laments!
Why do not you our mother
I, a stepmother?

On one krovatochke
Son with mother mother.
With golovenochkoy linen
my baby!

silent, dog chain!
Do not howl, the king of the sea!
passage, bad dream!
baby – my!

In boiling water to put an egg –
But how it cooks?
How to face your flower
Do not covet?

For one of your couches
I was born into the world.
I am a servant to Prince –
Not tsarёva woman.

Strip it my bast,
Dogs to roast dinner!
he likes, outlandish music
seduce – kubar?

I look in the mirror, look:
Ali breast flat?
want, two of you – on beads –
buy eye?

Not bring in consumption, – zadarom!”
A son back,
– For adult stepchildren – Nestor
Stepmother not walk trail. –

***

“Give the pad will correct!”
– I myself primoschus! –
“How so you leave?”
– I myself get along! –

“Ai lower? Ai higher?”
– I'm your kind of fasting! –
“It is seen, mind your Malchish
Ringing Po Sea sailed.

Ali does not handle white?”
– In a sea of ​​foam whiter! –
“Ali Ali sponge does not?”
– At sea Zori rides! –

“Ali's chest is not high?”
– Me that the breast – that the board! –
“You can lie down ryadushkom?”
– bedding uzka! –

“Kohl and indeed it is narrow – I roll up into a tube!
Talkative my silk? – strip off the skirt!
Everything, I knew, now forgotten night I za:
I krestyanochka, your soul sluzhanochka!”

A prince in reply
Again, all the same:
Everything: worthless, but do not touch,
do not touch, worthless!

“Ali's face really is not white?”

Most read poems Tsvetaeva:


All poetry (content alphabetically)

Leave a Reply