First, you sell your time. (This is called "earning a living.") Then you sell your ideas. (This is called "being famous.") Then you sell your house. (This is called "moving up".) Then you sell your wife of twenty five years. (This is called "a midlife crisis.") Then you sell your old books. (This is called [...]
You are a force deep inside me that doesn't know my name. (See me throw it into the fire.) That, deaf to my entreaties, wouldn't rescue me from a burning house. (See me throw it into the sea.) That wouldn't save me if I were drowning. And if I drowned, it would drown too. (See [...]
Marina Tsvetaeva English translations copyright (c) 1998 Poem of the End (Ardis, 1998), 190 pp. ISBN: 0-87501-112-8 Marina Tsvetaeva Translated from the Russian by Nina Kossman The Lord has rewarded me With a light-filled and iron heart. With a gift of singing, a tearful gift. The Lord has protected me With a white flag. The [...]
A bomb said to a city: "I'm falling." The city asked: "Whose side are you on?" The bomb said: "I take no sides. I'm falling." The city said: "Look around you." The bomb said: "Too late." The city did not say anything.
The stronger evidence of a cloud which carried him into the paper-strewn lot of a magnified dream no longer his own, no longer here, no longer alive, as it was when it used to entrap him. As it was, it was no longer a cloud that carried him. He, on a string of his dream, [...]
"Wishing to gain Cassandra's favors, Apollo promised to teach her the art of prophecy; she learned the art but refused her favours; hence Apollo deprived her prophecy of power to persuade." Apollodorus, The Library, III.xii.5 (tr. J. G. Frazer) HOW CASSANDRA BECAME CLAIRVOYANT So. You are Apollo. Well, that's a new one. As good a [...]
"... he was troubled in spirit, and testified, and said, Verily, verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me. Then the disciples looked one on another, doubting of whom he spake. He then lying on Jesus' breast saith unto him, Lord, who is it? Jesus answered, He it is, to whom [...]
I will grow myself quiet leaves in the diffiicult silence of chastity. I will hide in the immense namelessness though each tree murmurs to him my name. I am the bed of leaves he can never scorch, not even with his eyes of fire. I am the naked face of the flower; a cross. He [...]
See how nothing keeps out of Pluto's gorge, silently drifts towards it, waits, sinks into the thickening dark, the unreflecting water, grave made of mud and stones: this way--to hide lizard shadows, here--to rob of flesh; though mercy's an unprofitable profession, save me from too much death.