“Because everything is dream, o та sister!”*

They dreamed of the same country at night,
They secretly tormented by the same laughter,
And so, recognizing him among the all,
They both bent over him.

Above him, who loved only the antiquity
They whispered together: “Brother!”…
They did not move in their hearts
no surprise, no jealousy.

And next to tenderness, in anger,
With the birth of alien entreaties,
To his lips thoughtfully
They both clung… both…

In his sleep, he said,: “I love!”…
He opened his arms – Hall was empty!
But even death with pale lips
Do not wash off the double kiss.

27 – 30 December 1909

*”For all but a dream, of my sister!” (fr.).

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Marina Tsvetaeva
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