M.Tsvetaeva, I'M Wearing His Ring... - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

I'm wearing his ring as a call!
- Yes, I'm his wife, the eternal!
But not by paper... His face, though,
Is narrow as a sword.

His mouth's mute, with corners down,
Magnificently-painful are the brows.
In his face tragically two bloods
Together from the old times're joined.

He is lean as the boughs of trees.
His eyes -are nicely-useless! -rather,
And under his stretched brows as the wings-
There are two chasms.

I'm faithful to the knight like he is,
And to you all, who lived and died,
without fear! -
You all - in fatal times - write poems -
And take up the execution wreath.