My day is dissolute and odd:
I’m asking beggars for the bread,
And give the alms to wealthy.
For thread I pass a ray instead,
Entrust a key to burglars,
And rouge my skin for paleness.
The beggar would not give me bread,
The wealthy would ignore my fad,
A ray won’t fit a hole.
The burglar enters without key,
While silly me cries bitterly
O’er day, confused and hollow.
* * *
Марина Цветаева
Мой день беспутен и нелеп
2009, VP