Poems

Marina Tsvetaeva

By Ilya Kaminsky

In each line's strange syllable: she awakes
as a gull, torn
between heaven and earth.

I accept her, stand with her face to face.
—in this dream: she wears her dress
like a sail, runs behind me, stopping

when I stop. She laughs
as a child speaking to herself:
"soul = pain + everything else."

I bend clumsily at the knees
and I quarrel no more,
all I want is a human window

in a house whose roof is my life.




"Marina Tsvetaeva" by Ilya Kaminsky. All rights reserved. Reprinted with the permission of the author.