Tag: Marina Tsvetaeva

A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.

Marina Tsvetaeva

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Angelicachisinau the chapel, where crying on,Reach gentle face! Of earthly happiness is alien to me hurricane:I am ANGELIKA!Quiet singing in unison sounds,unclear Windows divorce,my Life captured like a dream, Slender arches.My eyes and my childhood slipped away there,He’s exhausted cities.Boring I talk and the shining hall,the World is me — so boring!Someone before Virgin satalin candle(Waiting for the healing of the sick eh?)That’s why I keep quiet among you:All I — other.Sweet weakness drooping hands,Every sorrow here is easy to me.Ivy temelastine embraced as drugstore stones;White and pink, like almonds,Here flourished dodder Happiness. I don’t pity the world:I am ANGELIKA!

Children’s views peephole timid,mischievous Legs on the floor banging,Children — is sun in the gloomy motives,a Whole world of hypotheses joyful Sciences.Eternal disorder in the gold rings,Tender words whispers half asleep,Peaceful pictures of birds and sheep in the comfortable child dozing on the wall.Children — is evening, evening on the couch Through the window in the mist, sparkles lights,Measuring the voice of the tale of Tsar Saltan,Of mermaids-sisters of the fairy seas.Children — is rest, brief moment of peace,the God of the crib reverent vow,Children are the world’s tender riddles,And the riddles lies the answer!

I like that I’m not in love. I like that between You and me, Erected a high wall And we love it wouldn’t become slaves. I’m glad I haven’t lost my mind In a frenzy over the passion. From his love I’m not drunk, And that fog my eyes froze. I’m happy not to drink me the pain of Separation, and because of My silent suffering did not notice anyone else. I am free from frustration. I like it, I’m not afraid to See the look in Your eyes the reflection of the Fire and passion of long-forgotten feelings, And our souls tired attraction. I think that I’m strong, he did not succumb to the persuasion of sweet But in a moment ruined wall, And again I fell in love without looking back.

Higher! Higher! Catch the pilot! Do not asked vine — otchesky a Nereid in lasitsa, a Nereid in La Suri! Lyra! Lyra! Hvalyn blue! The glowing crimson wings — in the tabernacle! Over hoes — and — spins the glowing crimson of the two storms! Muse! Muse! And how dare you? Only the node veils — blowing! Or wind pages rustle Of pages and the flush, soared And for the time being — account — bales, And for the time being — of the heart — rattling, the Boiling — to — boiling Two foam — crepe — wings. So, over your game — large, (Between the dead — and dolls!) Not obopay, not bought, the fire Blazing and BEA Sha six-winged, RA-stuffy, Between the imaginary — SIC! — I am Not strangled your carcasses Do Sha!

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Like the rich — poor,fell in Love with a scientist, stupid,Love rosy — pale,fell in Love with a good — harmful:Gold — penny copper. Where merchant is your extravagance?”In leaky in Lukasheka!” Where, proud of your learning?”Under the pillow devchonochki!” Where, handsome, rosy and red?”Per night black — melted”. — Cross silver with chain?”The girl under boots!” Not love, rich, poor,don’t love the scientist, stupid,Not love, rosy, pale,hate, good — bad.Gold — copper penny!

Primates discussion #538264Точно mount carried in the hem —the Whole body pain!I love I know bolevshego body along. Exactly in the field I rasalila any thunderstorms.I love I know dalish and all in close proximity. Definitely a hole in me prosilica bases where jet.I love know on mine,the Entire body along Moaning. As a draft grevious, Hun:I love I know srivasadi correct string Neck,- neck welirang, live salt.I love the cracks I know,No! for trevisago body along!http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhsUdJfwN9s

I like that you are sick not me,I like that I’m not sick of you,What ever the heavy ball semaine float away under our feet.I like that you can be funny —Disbanded — and not play with words,And not blush suffocating wave,Lightly touched sleeves.I like it that you are nespokoyno hug another,Not tipped me in hell to agnihorti because I did not kiss you.What is the name of my gentle, my sweet, not to Mention the day or night — in vain That never in the Church Ticinese will sing over us: Hallelujah!I thank you from the heart and rumaisa that you even don’t know! -But love my quiet nights,For rarity of meetings in sunset hours,For our non-festivities under the moon,the sun not over our heads,-For the fact that you are sick — alas! not me,because I am sick — alas! — not you!

I love the rich. Wealth — halo. In addition, they never expect nothing good as the kings, so simple-minded word in their mouths — a revelation, just human emotion — bravery. Wealth is all tisazalay (resonance of zero!). Thought, money bag, no people. Furthermore, wealth gives self-awareness and peace of mind (“everything I do — good!”) — as the talent is so rich I’m on his level. With other me too “humbly”.I love the rich. I swear and affirm, rich good (because is cheap) and beautiful (as well dress up). If it is impossible to be neither man nor handsome, nor noble, you have to be rich.

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The palm of your hand! (Handbook of Youths and maidens). Kiss right, Read left. In the middle of a conspiracy Entered — knows: Are the right Hide left. Sibyl — left: Away from glory. To be a kind of Savalou Quite — right. But still hate the Hour We left the world gaping Give from the heart! And yet, Full of righteous anger, right Hand veins We left!

The flower to his breast pinned,Who pinned it – can’t remember.My hungry insatiable sadness, to passion, to death.Cello, of scriptora and the clink of glasses And the clank of spurs, and recompeting trains,Shot on kotei bells triples -Call you severenergiya me!But there is another delight:I’m waiting for someone to pollypocket me And shot at point blank range.

The madness and the prudence,Disgrace — and honor,All of that leads to thought,All-too-is —me. — All convicts staticfiles one! —So my hair — all activedoc war!

One half of the window disappeared. One half of the soul it seemed.Let’s open and the half, and the half of the window

The commandments are not observed, did not go to communion.Seen, yet me will not sing a litany,Will sin – as I sin – as I sinned: with passion!The Lord vested in me by the senses – all five!Friend! Accomplices! You, whose whispers – burning!You soprastanti! You, gentle master!Young men, virgins, trees, constellations, clouds, God at the last judgment instead of answering, the Earth!

The sun is one, and marches in all cities.The sun is mine. I will not give it.Neither the hour nor the beam nor in the opinion. — To anyone.Never!Let them die in the permanent night of the city!The hands take! — If not safe to spin krugu!Let my hands and lips, and heart burn!In the eternal night of the lost — chase the placenta…my Sun! I will never give up!

If nice call, will mesosuchia. Great reputation, pozhaluysta. Since in the street sailing, women wincing with Pracovnice are apretadita. Doghouse and who will rise, but will move up, to Marvel at all the people that Shimizu.Owl uhnet, black catasetinae, Will remember an entire year of warlock. Well, since a gun accurately aim,Well, if brothers share right,If the Falcon in the men aiming the girl Platonica just me and Smeraldina. Kohl is like a wife where my povoinik?Since similar to the widow where the deceased is mine?If Mr right is waiting for habessinica? King Girl live, bezzakonie!

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Every time when I know that man loves me – wonder dislikes – too surprised, but mostly surprised when people are indifferent to me.

Who sleeps at night? Nobody sleeps!The child in the cradle of his cries,the old Man over the death of his sitting young — with Milou says,Her lips breathes, into the eyes looks.Fall asleep, Wake up there again?Time, time, time to sleep!

I love You all my life and every day.You need me like a big shadow, Like an ancient smoke of polar villages.I love You all my life and every hour.But I do not need Your lips and eyes.It all started and ended without You.Something I remember ringing the arc, a Huge gate, clean snow, Studded with stars horns And from the horns — in Podnebesnaya – the shadow And the ancient smoke of polar villages, I understand: You are a reindeer.

What is my sin? The Church is in tears not learning,Laughing awake and asleep?Trust me: I laugh in pain are treated,But the laughter is not joy to me!

I love the names and banners,the hairs and voices,the old wines and the old thrones,everybody dog.Poluulybki in response to the questions and young kings,I love the light of the cigarette in velvet most of the alleys.Amulets,cards,bottles and candles,the smell of nomads and fur coats,lying in the soul reaching speech charming lips…

Where is this tenderness?Not the first – these kudryasheva, and Gobineau – darker than yours.Was rising and fading stars(from Where such tenderness?),Rose and went out of ociu most of my life.Haven’t these songs been listening the night is dark(from Where such tenderness?) –On the breast of the singer.Where is this tenderness?And what to do with it, urokliwy, walk-in singer,With eyelashes – no longer?

To be able to say — and not let go of the lips. All to be able to give — and not unclasp her hands. It was a refusal, which is the main driving force of vihostupdate. Force? — Refusal? Yes, because the suppression of energy requires infinitely more effort than its free expression — which does not need effort. That it’s difficult to restrain the horse or to let it gallop? And since the horse, which we hold, — we, — what more painful to keep yourself in check or rassuzdat your hand?

I like that you can be funny -Disbanded – and not play with words,And not blush suffocating wave,Lightly touched sleeves.

Bitterness! Bitterness! Eternal aftertaste Bitterness…! Bitterness! Eternal privcacy your lips, on passion!Bitterness! Bitterness! Eternal temptation —Okonchatelnoe mouth. I from bitterness — Clausen who is young and good.You from bitterness — drogowego-hand lead. To eat bread, water potuguese-grief, bitterness and sadness.There is one grass takana meadows your about Russia.

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Two trees want to each other.Two trees. Opposite my house.The trees are old. The house is old.I’m young, and that would, perhaps,other people’s trees are not spared. The smaller man pulls his hands,As the woman had lived posrednictwo — to look cruel,Like stretches to another,Which is older stoicheff and — who knows? -More unhappy, perhaps. Two trees: in the heat of Sakata in the rain — even under snow always, Always: one to the other,it’s the law: the one to the other,one Law: the one to the other.

The letter, unanswered, is the hand, which did not meet hands. Song and formula

I page your of Peru,All accept, I’m a white page.I am the Keeper of your good will Increase and return to you a hundredfold.I am the trees, the black earth,I-beam and rain moisture.You are Lord and Master, and I-Black and white paper.

Some ancestor of mine was a violinist,Horseman, and thief at the same time.Is it because my temper stray hair smells of wind?

Don’t like rich – poor, do not love a scientist, stupid, not love the beautiful, pale, don’t like good – bad, gold – copper penny…

Forbid yourself to do, even if sometimes comes out crooked,your ridiculous motives no one will be able to repeat!

Be! Don’t surrender me without a fight! Don’t give me to night, streetlights, bridges, passers-by, all, all. I’ll stick with. Because I don’t want anyone else, I can not (not want, not can). Because I give what you gave me, I no give, and less I don’t want to. Because you’re the only one.

Here again a window Where again do not sleep.Can drinking wine Can — so sit.Or just rokne separate the two.In each house, each window is.Creek partings and meetings —You window in the night!Maybe — hundreds of candles,Can — three candles No Omonoia rest.And in my damusavebis is.

My sissy (the one who makes me gentle, who teaches me this miracle: to be gentle, undead), “Florentine nights”

August — asters,August — stars,August — grozdevidnaya and rabinically — August!Full-bodied, with blagosklonnost his Imperial Like a child play, August.As with his hand, stroking settimane his Imperial August! — Heart!A month of late kisses of Late roses and late lightning!Showers starry —August! — Mesalina star!

Vspomnite: all the goals for me than a Hair one on my head. And go yourself — You too, And You too, and You. Would’t fall out with me, everything will fall out! Don’t watch me in the morning! So could I safely go to Stand in the wind.

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I’ll win all the other — the one,You won’t be no one’s fiance, I’m anyone’s wife,And in the last dispute will take you, shut up! -That with which Jacob stood in the night.

Oh, Yes, life, as it may be close,has its own charm and strength — although biswal living voice, radialista, which will neoartist.

“If the soul was born with wings – That her mansion and that her hut!”

The discoverer of the springs do not need to understand neither its power nor the value of the spring. This is a gift, like any other, and therefore most often given unaware and ungrateful. Like all gifts, except the gift of the soul, which is nothing but conscience and memory. “Florentine nights”

And often, sitting for the first time with a man, in the midst of indifferent conversation, crazy idea: “what if I kiss him now?!” — Erotic obsession? — No. The same must be that of the player before you bet — Put or not? Put or not? — With the difference that the real players are betting.Notebook of Marina Tsvetaeva http://www.tsvetayeva.com/prose/pr_3zap_3.php

Friend, I’m not a little girl (although — what-it never comes up), burned, burned, burned, suffered — it was! — but to break, I crashed on You the entire scale of confidence on the wall! never. I ended with You as the mountain.

No one in our rummaging,I did Not understand to the depths-As we verolme, i.e., As themselves faithful.

Both in life and in poetry, the most valuable that fell

CHAMPAGNE 1919Шампанское TREACHEROUS backstabbing,And all are pour and drink!No rose without separatrices in the dark grave! You’re not my fiancé, not husband,Your head is in a fog And always one and the W —Let love character in the novel!

Generals of the twentieth you, whose wide timelinepanel sails,Whose spurs fun sonalii voices,And whose eyes are like diamonds, heart has left a trace, a Charming fantasiosa years!One ferocity voliva took heart and rock —Kings on each battlefield at the ball fields.You guarded the hand of Gospodnji the heart of the mother — of chermalyk boys today Officer!You all tops were small soft with stale bread,About young generalistic lives!

Tsvetaeva: a Man never wants first. If the man wanted, the woman he wants.Antokolsky: — what shall we do about tragic love? When the woman really does not want?Tsvetaeva: — So, do she wanted but something close. Wrong door.

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Never say that because everyone is doing: everyone is always doing poorly, just as readily refer to them! (NB! a number of examples, which are now omitted.) The “all” is the second name — no one, absolutely no face — space. Well, if you say, “nobody does that” (not getting dressed, not thinking, etc.) answer: “And I — who!”Marina Tsvetaeva — cute children.

In palantinate fatal temptation for women. — Ars Amandi Woman — the whole earth.Heart love selesele or all.Woman with kolybelka any mortal sin.Ah, far from the sky!Lips — close in the darkness — God, don’t judge! — you are not biliardino on earth!*The science of love

Forgive me! I don’t want!The cry ripped open his guts!So suicide bombers are waiting for rasstrela the morning For chess Useshaders bellboy eyes.After all, chess the pawns!And someone is playing us.

Spectator of the fight — or a Gavotte? Step forward-three steps back Step back-and forward three. Mouth like honey in the eyes trust, But taking off an eyebrow. Not love, but hypocrisy, Histrionics — not love! And the result of these (in brackets — Nesdannyh!) sins — it’s a little stack of Delightful poems. 20 Nov 1918

Bored after the revelry.And I like having fun — not prepared!You sir I Madam,And most importantly — how you so well! Do not hype! You know Sampo evil chill in the larynx That I was your mouth is Just foam from the hills of champagne! There are gold sprees.And this my revelry is justified:Champagne love lies —No molasses a love of the truth!

Your tender mouth — it’s just a kiss — and that’s all And I’m just like a beggar. Who am I now? – Is one? — No, a thousand! The conqueror? ‘No, the conquest! If it was love — or the admiration, Feather fad-or the root cause of the Vexation whether in the angelic-or a bit of pretense — by calling. — Soul sorrow, eyes charm, whether the stroke of a Pen — Ah! – not everything does, How to call these things — mouth until Your mouth tender — it’s just a kiss!December 1918

My day was wicked and absurd: a beggar asking for bread,the Rich give to the poor. A needle threaded-beam,the Robber handed a key,Whitewash Romany pallor. I a damsel in distress does not,Rich money takes the Beam is not odevaetsya the needle, the Robber enters without key,And a fool’s crying buckets Over the day without fame, without avail.

I – am. You’re. Between us is a chasm.I drink. You crave. To come to an agreement — in vain.Us ten years, we are one hundred tysyacheletiyami. — The God of bridges does not build. Be! — this is my commandment. Give monoprice, breath without violating growth.I – am. You will. Ten Vicenti I am! — I will say — once

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Life has taught — in the fire, He threw-in the icy steppes! Here’s what you, my dear have made me My dear, WHAT have I done?

Lowering his visor,all — in wrestling,I Have — of maloolaba — yourself Hello, green novozelene smoke!I still have nohollaback others

Hardens all sang and fought,Shone and eager:And green my eyes, and gentle voice,And gold of hair.And will life with its daily bread,With the forgetfulness of the day.And will all — as if under nabami was not me!Changeable as children in each of the saints so long evil,who Loved the hour when firewood in kaminstueberl ash,Cello and sleighing cavalcades in a thicket,And the bell in the village — Me, such alive and present,On gentle earth!

Easier for the Fox to hide under your clothes than to hide you jealousy and tenderness?

Rival and I will come to you someday, such a night the moon, When frogs howl on the pond And women are from pity insane. And, pricked to the beating of the eyelids And on your jealous eyelashes will Tell you that I am not a man, But only a dream only a dream. And I shall tell: — Console me, comfort Me someone in your heart is hammering! And I’ll tell you that wind is fresh, What’s hot — over his head — star

Only to the end of my journey, I realized a simple truth — we must help the strong, to give money to the rich.

Repeat on the eve of separation,at the end of the love That loved these rocheplatte your eyes — who — someone-touzlata not give! -Requiring occhetta casual look.All of you with your tekstiilsisu — God knows! -Require rasplatita random breath.And I say wearily, to play do not rush! -What does your soul I wlalpapers soul.And yet you say I am— still-the eve! -This mouth to pozhaluetes was young.Look-up look — bold and bright,the Heart is five years old Happy, who are you not vstretila your way.

Whole red leaves and sleepy mouths, Flying leaves and dormant mouths. I’m in the world that are not looking for profit. – Sleeping, sleeping mouths, Fly, flying leaves!

God! Don’t judge! Are you a woman was not

The levity!- Sweet sin,Sweet companion and enemy my dear!You in my eyes brisol laughter,And the Mazurka I brizol in veins. Teaching not to keep the ring,-With whom my Life I no crowned!To begin at random from the end,And finish before the start. Be like stem and be like stall life where we had so little — Chocolate to treat grief And to laugh in the face of passers-by!

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Stroke the baby’s head — he gets wind of this. More often hug the child — the stronger he is on his feet. Constantly kiss his babe – his heart is always love.

Maybe the best pabedan time and the inclination —to Pass, so as not to leave a trace,to Pass, to not leave shadows On the walls Can be okazavaet? Being removed from the mirrors?So: Lermontov to Kavkazpress not stravou rocks. Maybe the best fatehpura Sebastian Boorganna not to touch the echo?To disintegrate, leaving ashes On the urn Can be obanonuser? To be discharged from latitudes?So: Time to oceanografica not stravou water

I – your passion, your Sunday rest,Your seventh day, your seventh heaven

Die,I will not say: was.Not sorry and not looking for the perpetrators.There is light at the more important things,Passionate storms and deeds of love.You wing stocastici in the chest,the Young hero of the inspiration,I command you: be!I will not come out of obedience.

Feeling doesn’t need experience, it knows in advance that it is doomed. Feelings have nothing to do on the periphery of the visible, it is in the center, it center. The feeling of nothing to look at on the roads, it knows what’s coming and lead — in itself.

The time? – asked him here And he answered the curious: Eternity.Foolish the poet ask the time. Without-Dary. Because he went crazy from these stupid questions. Found a watch! HE needs to tell the time, not his to ask.

Love to see the person as God intended and did not realize parents. Not love — to see a person the way it was carried out by the parents. To love is to see instead a table, a chair.

You’re a stranger to me and not a stranger,the Native and non-native,Mine and not mine! Going to abadomi — I “visit” you will not say And will not say “home”.Love is like fire Pesci:And all are of the ring — the big thing,And all are altar — the great lights. God did not bless!

Listen and remember: anyone who laughs at the misfortune of other people is a fool or a scoundrel; this files most often — both When a person gets trapped — it’s not funny When people sling mud — it’s not funny When people substitute the bandwagon — it’s not funny When a person is hit in the face is despicable. A laugh is a sin

And life one let like the character in the novel

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