The demon in me
Is not dead but lives!
In self like in jail
In body like in bilge.
Exit is axe
From the world that is walls
(An actor mumbles,
"A stage is the world.")
And lump-legged jester
Did not act sly.
In body - like in glory.
Like in toga - in body.
Many a year!
Hold dear that you're alive!
(Only the poets
In bone - like in lie!)
We won't make merry,
Singing brothers,
In body like in cotton
Gown of a father.
We cost the better.
In heat we wilt.
In body - like in stall.
In self - like in a pot.
Transitory magnificence
We do not hold.
In body - like in morass,
In body - like in vault,
In body - like in extreme
Exile. - Wilt!
In body - like in secret,
In temples - like in a grip
Of an iron mask.
By Marina Tsvetayeva
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
http://lib.ru/POEZIQ/CWETAEWA/sbornik_engl.txt
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