Epitaph (So, Who here is a vernal grass…)

So, Who here is a vernal grass,
forgive, The Lord, evil thought and sin!
He was sick, exhausted, unearthly,
He loved the angels and children's laughter.

Not crumpled stars lilac snow-white,
Though the Lord desired to overcome…
In all the sins he – child gentle,
And that's why – forgive him, The Lord!

Rate:
( No ratings yet )
Share with your friends:
Marina Tsvetaeva
Leave a Reply