Marina Tsvetaeva - Poets

Виктор Постников
The poet‘s  talk -  starts from afar
The poet – in her talk – goes far.
 
By planets, omens… devious ruts
Of parables… Twixt “yes” and “no”
She - from the highest belfry – hurls
Them into void... For comets  go 

Like poets.  Scattered chunks
Of causes - is her cause!  You’re stunned ?   
The poet’s  black-outs can’t be learned
From  peering into charts.

The poet disarrays the cards
Deceives the weight and math,
She who inquires from the start,
She who makes Kant ablush.

Who in the Bastille’s stony depth
Feels like a blooming bush;
She who leaves not a single trace, 
A train that you have missed…
             
            For comets go   
Like poets:  they would burn,
Reap, but not sow  –  blow, burst –
Their  path is so bent
No calendar can guess !

1923
vip/2013

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