Alexander Pushkin, I loved you

“I loved you…” I loved you, and I probably still do, And for a while the feeling may remain… But let my love no longer trouble you, I do not wish to cause you any pain. I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew, The jealousy, the shyness – though in vain – Made up …

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Marina Tsvetaeva, To Mother

To Mother In the old Strauss waltz for the first time We had listened to your quiet call, Since then all the living things are alien And the knocking of the clock consoles. We, like you, are gladly greeting sunsets, And are drunk on nearness of the end. All, with which on better nights we’re …

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Anna Akhmatova, Lying in me

Lying in me Lying in me, as though it were a white Stone in the depths of a well, is one Memory that I cannot, will not, fight: It is happiness, and it is pain. Anyone looking straight into my eyes Could not help seeing it, and could not fail To become thoughtful, more sad …

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Marina Tsvetaeva, Girlfriend

Girlfriend “I will not part! — There is no end!” She clings and clings… And in the breast — the rise Of threatening waters, Of notes…Steadfast: like an immutable Mystery: we will part!

Regina Derieva, I Don’t Feel At Home Where I Am

I Don’t Feel At Home Where I Am I don’t feel at home where I am, or where I spend time; only where, beyond counting, there’s freedom and calm, that is, waves, that is, space where, when there, you consist of pure freedom, which, seen, turns that Gorgon, the crowd, to stone, to pebbles and …

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Marina Tsvetaeva, You who loved me with the falseness

You who loved me with the falseness You who loved me with the falseness Of truth – and the truth of lies. You who loved me-beyond Anything!-Over the edge! You who loved me beyond Time-Right hand, wave! You love me no more: The truth in five words.

Anna Akhmatova, The sentence

The Sentence And the stone word fell On my still-living breast. Never mind, I was ready. I will manage somehow. Today I have so much to do: I must kill memory once and for all, I must turn my soul to stone, I must learn to live again– Unless . . . Summer’s ardent rustling …

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Lermontov, Prayer

Prayer At life’s most testing moment, when the grieving heart’s replete, a prayer that is most potent then I call up and repeat. There is a power, suffused with grace, when living words combine, a breath beyond the commonplace, that holds a joy divine. Like dead-weight slipping from the brain now fades my unbelief – …

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Alexander Pushkin, The Wish

The Wish I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation; And I am silent; my murmur is dead, My soul, sunk in a depression’s shade, Hides in its depths the bitter exultation. I don’t deplore my passing dream of life — Vanish in dark, the empty apparition! I care only for my love’s infliction, …

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