Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva Poems
- In Paris Homes reach the stars, the sky's below, The land in...
- I Like That You Are Crazy Not ... I like that you are ...
- The Demon In Me The demon in me's not dead, He's living, and...
- Much Like Me Much like me, you make your way ...
- The Window In the sweet, Atlantic Breathing of spring My ...
- You Who Loved Me With The Fals... You who loved me with the...
- Whence Cometh Such Tender Rapt... Whence cometh such tender ...
Marina Tsvetaeva was born in Moscow. Her father, Ivan Tsvetayev, was a professor of art history and the founder of the Museum of Fine Arts. Her mother Mariya, née Meyn, was a talented concert pianist. The family travelled a great deal and Tsvetaeva attended schools in Switzerland, Germany, and at the Sorbonne, Paris. Tsvetaeva started to write verse in her early childhood. She made her debut as a poet at the age of 18 with the collection Evening Album, a tribute to her childhood.
In 1912 Tsvetaeva married Sergei Efron, they had two daughters and one son. Magic Lantern showed her technical mastery and was followed in 1913 by a selection of poems from her first collections. ... more »
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Homes reach the stars, the sky's below,
The land in smoke to it is near.
Inside the big and happy Paris
Remains the secretive despair.
The evening boulevards are noisy,
Gone are the sundown's final rays,
And there are couples everywhere
Trembling of lips, daring of eyes.
I'm here alone. To trunk of chestnut
It is so nice one's head to lean!
And like in the abandoned Moscow
In heart weep verses of Rostand.
Paris at night is sad and alien,
Dear to the heart is madness gone!
I'm going home, there's vial of sorrow
And tender portrait of ...