Translation from Russian Marfa Almazova
The lone house on the hill,
In it,on the window, the candle burns down.
And on my table some how,
Marina Tsvetaeva.
She sea, sea she,
Marina, Marina Tsvetaeva.
Her verse is fire,
From them and my heart warm.
Her poems, like the wind,
Flying around the world to adults and children.
In the lines of her soul verses sink,
Sadness, loging evoke.
She is a goddess of poetry,
Holy...
The joy they are looking for, find,
The warmth of her poems, I love.
I from the hands of a volume of poems to her, not releasing,
From beginning to end, reading it.
Let the tears flow from the eyes, I,
Nonsense.
To cry sometimes...
F.A.V.
g.Borovichi
phome from the internet