How many into this abyss did fall?
How many into this abyss did fall?
Far off, I wonder in earnest!
My day will come, and to me call
to vanish from Earth’s surface.
All will be still, that sang and did strive,
that sparkled and did tear,
As will my gentle voice, the green of my eyes,
and the golden of my hair.
And life goes on with her daily bread,
and the forgetfulness of the day.
As if beneath the skies I never tread,
all the rest will stay!
Capricious, like a child in every mood,
never dwelling long in sternness,
who loved to watch a burning wood
turn to ashes in a furnace.
A cello, and a forest procession,
And in the town — a bell…
Upon this ground so very precious,
here I am — alive and well!
Where strangers end and lovers began
is measure unknown to me.
I address you all, with faith’s demands,
and love’s most tender plea.
Both night and day, both written and told:
For the truth of yes and no,
For the fact that I am but twenty years old
yet so often — in such sorrow,
For that fate must offer penance
and forgive me each transgression,
For reckless was my benevolence,
and too prideful my expression,
For truth, and for a game,
For the splitting way events do fly…
Hear me now! — and love me the same,
For the fact that I will die.
—Marina Tsvetaeva, 8 December 1913
