Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
Dis-stance: versts, miles
To B. Pasternak
Dis-stance: versts, miles...
They've dis-joined us, dis-mantled us,
So that we would be quiet,
At the world's farthest ends.
Dis-stance: versts, reaches...
They've disbanded, disrupted us,
Disunited and dissolved us,
Not knowing that we are an alloy
Of inspirations and sinews...
They haven't dispirited us, but they've dispersed us,
Wall and moat.
Displaced us, like eagles-
Conspirators: versts, reaches...
Not dismayed, but displanted.
Across the slums of the earth's latitudes
They disarranged us like orphans.
How many is it - oh, how many - Marches?!
Since they disordered us like a deck of cards!
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Comments about this poem (Dis-stance: versts, miles by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(November 1, 1871 – June 5, 1900)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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