Есть имена... - перевод М. Цветаевой

There are the names, as the stuffy flowers,
And there are looks, as the fire dancing...
And there are the curling and dark mouths
With the corners, deep and wet rather...

There are the women. - As a helmet are the hairs,
And their fans smell fine but deathly so.
They are the thirty years old. - Why then,
Why do you seek my Spartan's baby soul?


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