The wintry twilight touches a pink rose
On the walls, and the fire-place.
I dream about a spring memosa,
And lily of the valley thinly faced.
The smell of coffee makes me dizzy,
And cigarettes are warming me.
I try to take things very easy,
And let my spirit sing free.
The wintry twilight touches pink roses
And ashberry branches on window sills.
I'm keeping my window closed, -
I'm afraid of winter still.
The Mountain Ash, full of ashberry branches,
Is covered by snow, but still alive.
And berries are shining by sparking redness.
Even through night, through holy night!
*
Ýòî àíãëèéñêîå ñòèõîòâîðåíèå íàïèñàíî
ìíîþ ïî ìîòèâàì Ìàðèíû Öâåòàåâîé.