Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva

8 October 1892 – 31 August 1941 / Moscow

To The Next One

Tender caresses of kind little sisters
Are ready for you.
With the birds' songs, O the charmed prince,
We're waiting for you.
Branch drunk with sun, you grew, visage of heaven
Before my eyes.
Like a girl tender, like a child quiet,
All - surprise.
They'll often say: 'These sisters are treacherous
In each reply!'
Cocky with daring ones, kids with a boy, timid
With someone shy.
We love, like you, melting clouds and birches
And melted snow.
We love the tales about grandmother's daughters,
Little and slow!
Pitiful is the wind, spring remembering,
Gems in the skies..
We wait for you, one that knows nothing of life,
And has blue eyes!
155 Total read