The first gentle breath of spring,
the Night is warm, quiet and moonlight.
Again the tears, again dreams
In the gloomy castle of Schonbrunn.
Whose white silhouette
Over the leave table below.
Again, sigh, again nonsense:
"the Marseillaise! The throne!.. In Paris..."
Letters rushed with the pages
Line — regiment. Sang pipe...
raindrops are falling from the lashes
"once Again you and I!" whisper the lips.
Lamp dim twilight
Fades, the night but brighter.
Whose there menacing silhouette
Grew up in the depths of the alley?
Marina Tsvetaeva
#poetry