Who's made from a stone, or a clay mold,
Only I - is a flash, is a silver.
My name of a traitor, my name is Marina -
I'm - the mortal ocean foam.
Who's made from a clay, from a flesh only -
For those - the tombs and the stone flags...
In a sea bath christened, I'm going,
I'm flying high - and incessantly smashed.
All other hearts through, all the nets through -
My self-will will go one time.
Why do you think - do you see my curls dissolute -
That I'd be the earth salt once?
While I'm splitting, met with your granit knees,
But with every wave - I rise up again and again!
Long live the sea foam - the foam merry -
The high sea foam - I pray!
20 may 1920
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem