1 Blessed are the ones that left your daughters, Earth, To fight in wartime battle and to run, Blessed are the ones that having never tried Comfort went to the fields Elysian. Thus grows the laurel - writer of the years, Heater of battle, sober, with harsh leaves. I will never exchange for bitter fate of love The friendship's over-the-clouds cliffs. 2 Already gods' - not the same generosity, Upon the river's shore, not the same one. Fly, fly again, the doves of Aphrodite Into wide open gates of setting sun. I'll leave in day, in which there is no count, Lying upon the sand that's growing cold... I've outgrown my youth and look upon it Like snake that's looking at his skin of old. 3 In vain, inside the promised branches hiding, Your tender retinue thunders above. I drop a myrtle that did love so many, I drop the belt that did so sweetness love. With a dumb arrow that is heavily piercing Freed me from these my shackles your own son. Thus at the very throne of my calmness You born of foam, as a foam be gone! 4 How many, how many of them, white and blue Eat from the hands! Whole kingdoms are clucking around your lips O Lowliness! In gold of cup the deadly sweat Does not translate. The mantle-wearing general will vanish Like dove of white. Every cloud like a chest circles In a bad hour. There is your visage, O she-devil, in Each perfect flower. You fleeting foam, the salt of the sea.. In torment and foam - For what reason should I obey You, armless stone? By Marina Tsetayeva Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat