Status Updates From My Poems: Selected Poetry o...

My soul - born in a nameless place.

My native tongue, which often sung
To me, as of this day, can't tempt me.
I am indifferent in which tongue
The passerby misunderstands me.

I - am. You - will be. An abyss between us.
I drink. You thirst. In vain we try to agree.
Ten years between us, a hundred thousand years between us. - God builds no
bridges.

June 6, 1918

I'm neither an impostor nor a guest!
I'm not the maid! I am your seventh
Day, your longed-for Sunday's rest,
Your passion and your seventh heaven!

(Psyche)

Was released from the hospital yesterday. A Russian lady there taught me to pronounce "Tsvetaeva" correctly. 🙂

I made a new friend. A lovely and kind 69 years old lady from Bulgaria. I learnt a few words of Bulgarian to help her. I think it was for a reason God put my bed right next to hers. She was suffering from dementia and has a fracture. Happy Sunday!

Ebba

"My footsteps are light,
- A sign of good conscience -"

To kiss the forehead - is to erase worry.
I kiss the forehead.

To kiss the eyes - is to cure insomnia.
I kiss the eyes.

To kiss the lips - is to quench the thirst.
I kiss the lips.

To kiss the forehead - is to erase memory.
I kiss the forehead.

June 5, 1917

"O, tell me why the named you Daniel?
I keep on dreaming of you mangled by
the lions!"

July 26, 1916

( I learnt a lot while reading Daniel. Old Testament.)

One of the first reviews of her debut collection blamed Tsvetaeva for “too muchness,” for an over-abundance of lyricism. Tsvetaeva’s response? “There cannot be too much of lyric because lyric itself is too much.”

(Ilya Kaminsky)

"Where does such tenderness come from?
These curls that I stroke with my hand
Aren't the first I've stroked and I
Knew lips that were darker than yours.

The stars rose in the sky and faded,
Where does such tenderness come from? -
And glowing eyes also rose and faded
Right next to my own two eyes.

(...)

Feb 18, 1916

"Two suns are cooling down - God, I protest! -
One - in the sky, the other - in my chest."

"How much dark and menacing grief
Is concealed in my golden-haired head."

May 17, 1913

"Only several streets divide us,
Only several words!"

(In The Winter)