M.Tsvetaeva, Meeting - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

Meeting
by Marina Tsvetaeva

The evening smoke has appeared above place,
The humble cars were running to somewhere,
Suddenly the semi-child's anemone's face,
Has flickered in one window of train.

A shadow - on eyelids. As a crown
The curls were lying... And I had suppressed
The cry: I understood at last,
That dead were risen up by our praying.

With that girl at the window dark
I met so frequently in my dream valleys -
The image in the railway station's hubbub -
But why was she so absolutely sad?
What was she seeking - the transparent silhouette?
Perhaps, even in sky - there's no any happiness?