In a dress made of amethyst

In a dress made of amethyst,
All in metal and ice.
You are thin, you are silvery,
Like the holy valhall.

You are thundering and playing,
You call and you caress.
You're mine, did you get it?
And you will not be strange.

In a dress made of amethyst
people don't wear such.
And their stones are earthy -
not a wonder, but ash!

What's the story you're telling -
You're the furnace of horns,
You're a pipe without ending
Among multilayered gods.


*****
Liza, this is a haunted and haunting poem, which is the nature of many lyric poems, like Tsvetaeva's. WHAT STORY ARE YOU TELLING? That's what dream do: either a character in the dream or the dream itself give us a puzzling story. In this one you are praising a woman who appears WONDERFUL to you but probably not to outsiders. You see her as a figure of wonder who is shining over you. She is real, even in the dream
she is real. That is your faith in her. The imagery is startling with amethyst dresses and other metals, but I think that is the dream's way of saying:
SHE'S IS GENUINE, WORTHY OF YOUR PRAISE, COMMITTED TO THE LONG TERM.