Not for nothing I’m so weird, … (Marina Tsvetaeva)

Not for nothing I’m so weird, so close loved the embroidered painting: young woman at her feet are two children, girls.And she watches over the children away.

Nailed to the shameful stolbischensky conscience old,With a snake in the heart and branded on the forehead,I would argue that — innocent.I affirm that I am Polyplastic before communion.Not my fault that I recoupe squares stand for happiness.Review all my stuff,I went blind ?Where is the gold mine? Where’s the silver?In my palm — a handful of ashes!And that’s all that flattery and Malbaie let me go.And that’s all I will take with above the edge of silent kissing.

Days slipping slugs, Row, seamstress That day to own my life?Not mine, not yours.To troubles me a little delcommenne — Food? Sleeping?That to me mortal body?Not mine, not yours.

I don’t think I’m listening. Then look for the exact incarnation in the word. It turns out the ice armor formula, under which only the heart.

And, if the heart is torn,Without a doctor removes the stitches,Know that from the heart the head is.Is the axe from the head. M. Tsvetaeva.

How did this happen? Oh, friend, how does this happen?! I rushed, another said, I have heard big words, which is easier, and I may be the first time in life I hear. “Communication? “I don’t know. I the wind in the branches connected. From hands to lips — and where is the limit? And is there a limit? The earth road is short. What will come of this — I don’t know. Know most pain. Go on suffering.

You, I loved falselisting-and truth of lie,You loved me-Dulsineya!-Beyond the borders!You, I loved dolcevita.-Right hand sway!-You don’t love me anymore the Truth in five words.

How many of them fall into the abyss,Gaping away the day will Come when I ischeznut the surface of the Earth

You can make jokes with the man, but not to be trifled with his name.

With great tenderness — because I will —I’m wondering will comodoties wolf fur, Who raspivali pledi thin cane with a Greyhound,Who — my silver bracelet,With turquoise And all notes, and all the flowers to keep — could not stand my Last rhyme — and you,my Last night!

When men leave me the hell alone, I am deeply innocent.

I have learned one thing with another I had a “p” letter, which I preferred the most I’m getting from all of the alphabet, the most courageous: frost, mountain, hero of Sparta, the beast — all that is in me is direct, strict, harsh. You: rustling, whisper, silk, silence and especially cheri. But this happens to me so rarely-so-ever. I’m afraid that I’m dreaming, now Wake up, and again a mountain, a hero