Marina Zvetayeva
For that the forest is my cradle, and the forest is my graveyard
For that I'm standing on the ground with only single foot
For that noone can sing of you the way I would.
I shall reconquer you, from all the nights and all the epochs
From all the golden standards and from all the swords.
And the keys be thrown out
and the hounds to banish from doorways,
For that on earth at night there can't be more devotion
And you won't be another's bridegroom
Neither shall I be someone else's woman
And at the final arguing I will take you away from -hush!-
the holy man by whom St Jacob stood facing the moonlight
But still I wouldn't keep your hands on your chest crossed
Oh, what a curse, you have yourself,
And Those two wings of yours are now fixed on the ether
For that the world is your own cradle and your grave is earth
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